7^^" 


"viy  t 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2008  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/courtofsacharissOOsherrich 


The  Court  of  Sacharissa 


T1^2)<J^ 


^       ^    o 


The  Court  of  Sacharissa 

\_Compiled  out  of  the  Traditions  of  the  Irresponsible  Club"] 
BY 

HUGH    SHERINGHAM 

AND 

NEVILL    MEAKIN 

AUTHOR    OF    "THE    ASSASSINS" 


:  j">>.i  jN  »o  ' 


Keto  fork 
THE   MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

■    LONDON:   MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Ltd. 
1904 

All  rights  reserved 


Copyright,  1904, 
By  the   MACMILLAN   COMPANY. 


Set  up,  electro  typed,  and  published  March,  1904. 


Norfaooti  ^rrss 

J.  S.  Gushing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 

Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


The  Court  of  Sacharissa 

^  JKitiSummer  Iti^U 


SCENE    I 


The  Court  of  Sacharissa 

a  ffittisummer  Bgll 
SCENE   I 

CHAPTER   I 

When  they  reached  the  rustic  bridge  the 
Exotic  refused  to  go  any  further.  "  I  have/' 
said  he,  "  walked  enough,  and  now  I  shall  sit 
under  that  willow  and  smoke/* 

The  Ambassador  smiled  a  little  and  gazed 
across  the  stream.  "  I  wonder  if  we  should  be 
justified  .  .  ."  he  began. 

"A  bridge,"  remarked  the  Poet,  who  was 
apt  in  his  less  inspired  moments  to  begin  at 
the  beginning,  "  is  meant  to  be  crossed." 

"  It  looks  like  a  garden,"  continued  the 
Ambassador ;  "  yew  hedges  and  gravel  paths 
imply  at  least  a  gardener." 

3 


THE    COURT   OF   SACHARISSA 


"Well,  who's  afraid  of  gardeners  ?  "  said  the 
Man  of  Truth,  who  was  young  and  frank. 

"  I  am  not  afraid,"  returned  the  Ambassador, 
mildly,  "  but  I  have  a  delicacy  .   .  ." 

"  False  delicacy,"  interjected  the  Man  of 
Truth,  setting  one  foot  on  the  bridge. 

"  This  stream  is  full  of  trout,"  announced 
the  Scribe,  who  had  wandered  for  some  distance 
up  the  bank,  irrelevantly.  This  decided  the 
Ambassador,  who  followed  him,  took  him  by 
the  arm,  and  induced  him  to  return.  He  then 
led  him  across  the  bridge  without  more  hesita- 
tion. 

"  I  will  wait  for  the  other,"  said  the  Poet, 
indicating  a  figure  crossing  the  meadow  in  the 
distance,  a  figure  which  conversed  with  itself 
and  waved  its  arms. 

"Should  you,"  murmured  the  Exotic,  "hap- 
pen upon  strawberries  or  anything  of  that 
nature,  bring  them  back  with  you  in  a  cabbage- 
leaf" 

The  Man  of  Truth  was  already  some  dis- 
tance up  the  yew  alley  when  he  stopped.  Be- 
fore him  lay  a  stone  fountain  in  whose  midst 
stood  three  marble  maids,  daughters  of  Danaus, 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  5 

with  their  heads  bent  forward  as  they  emptied 
their  pitchers,  while  the  falling  drops  flashed  in 
the  sun.  Beyond  the  fountain  were  number- 
less beds  of  rose-bushes  planted  each  according 
to  its  kind,  —  soft,  creamy  squares,  diamonds 
gleaming  white,  and  hearts  blushing  crimson, 
and  beyond  the  rosary  lay  a  wide  expanse 
of  velvet  lawn. 

"  I  think,'*  said  the  Scribe,  slowly,  as  he 
looked  on  the  scene,  "  that  you  make  a  better 
picture  for  this  frame  than  we ;  will  you  lead 
the  way  ? " 

The  spirit  of  the  place  was  doing  its  work ; 
the  Ambassador  passed  between  the  roses  with 
easy  grace.  Unconsciously  he  raised  his  left 
hand  toward  his  heart,  until  his  cane  assumed 
that  perfect  angle  at  which  a  cane  becomes 
something  more  than  itself,  —  a  nice  expression 
of  dignity  and  a  promise  of  deference  when 
occasion  shall  demand.  With  his  handkerchief 
he  delicately  flicked  a  speck  of  dust  from  his 
sleeve,  and  then  with  the  first  two  fingers  of  his 
right  hand  he  tapped  the  lid  of  an  imaginary 
snufF-box  held  lightly  between  "the- thumb  and 
forefinger  of  his  left.     His  back  became  more 


6  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

courtly,  more  supple,  as  of  a  man  prepared  at 
any  moment  to  bow  on  either  hand.  He  had 
stepped  back  two  centuries  ;  he  was  a  person  of 
quality  again.  And  so  he  passed  beyond  the 
roses  and  across  the  lawn  until  he  came  to  the 
old  sun-dial  and  the  trellised  arbour  behind. 
There  he  paused  and  swept  a  low  bow  with 
uncovered  head,  while  the  Scribe  and  the  Man 
of  Truth,  who  had  followed  in  his  steps,  re- 
moved their  hats  with  what  elegance  they  could: 
the  consciousness  of  two  hundred  heavy  years 
was  upon  them. 

A  slender  figure  appeared  at  the  door  of  the 
arbour,  and  a  pair  of  grey  eyes  looked  from 
under  long  lashes  at  the  bowing  trio  with  open 
wonder,  with  which,  as  the  curve  of  two  red 
lips  seemed  to  hint,  was  perhaps  mingled  some 
amusement.  Then  the  figure  curtsied  low  and 
stood,  cream-coloured  and  softly  outlined  against 
the  dark  background,  waiting. 

"  Madam,"  said  the  Ambassador,  "  we  are 
infinitely  yours  to  command." 

"  Sir,"  she  replied,  "  I  am  deeply  sensible 
of  the  honour,"  and  waited  for  further  expla- 
nations. 


,      A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  7 

"  My  friends  and  I,"  continued  the  Ambas- 
sador, "  have,  I  fear,  unwittingly  trespassed 
upon  your  privacy.'*  She  inclined  her  head 
as  an  invitation  to  proceed. 

The  Ambassador  paused  for  a  moment ;  the 
situation  was  not  of  the  easiest.  "  Our  expla- 
nation .  .  ."  he  began,  but  checked  himself 
with  a  slight  cough.  "  The  explanation  for 
our  intrusion  .  .  ."  he  paused  again. 

"  There  isn't  any,"  said  the  Man  of  Truth, 
in  a  loud  aside. 

This  the  Ambassador  was  compelled  to  ad- 
mit. "  In  effect,  madam,  on  consideration  I 
find  to  my  everlasting  sorrow  that  it  is  even 
as  my  friend  has  suggested,  and  we  have  posi- 
tively no  explanation  to  offer." 

"  We  simply  came,"  explained  the  Scribe. 

"  Across  a  bridge,"  added  the  Man  of  Truth. 
There  was  a  momentary  gleam  in  the  grey 
eyes,  and  the  red  lips  curved  a  little  more. 

"  Therefore,"  said  the  Ambassador,  "  we 
have  to  offer  our  most  abject  apologies."  She 
inclined  her  head  again  as  though  to  intimate 
that  apologies  wer^  not  out  of  place.  "  Our 
most  abject  apologies,"  he  repeated.     "  But," 


8  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

he  continued,  with  another  profound  bow, 
"  while  I  assure  you  that  we  are  most  penitent 
for  our  ill-doing,  will  you  pardon  me  if  I  say 
that  it  is  an  error  which  we  shall  never  be  able 
wholly  to  regret  ?  " 

It  may  be  that  there  was  in  her  face  the 
question  which  the  Ambassador  had  expected. 
He  deemed  it  necessary  to  explain:  "Because,'* 
said  he,  with  yet  another  bow,  "  it  has  given 
us  the  unparalleled  felicity  of  being  permitted 
to  make  those  apologies  to  which  you  have  so 
graciously  listened." 

At  this  she  laughed  outright :  "  Is  that 
why  you  came  ?  "  she  asked. 

The  Ambassador  weighed  the  chances. 
"  Alas,  madam,"  it  seemed  safer  to  say,  "  we 
cannot  excuse  ourselves  so.  We  came  in 
ignorance."  It  occurred  to  him  to  prepare 
for  eventualities.  "  I  very  much  fear,  too, 
that  others  of  our  party  wander  at  this  moment 
in  your  lovely  garden  also  in  ignorance,  — 
ignorance  as  yet  undispelled  by  the  light." 
He  punctuated  his  conclusion  with  another 
bow. 

She  glanced  round  the  lawn  in  what  seemed 


.      A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  9 

some  slight  apprehension  while  she  repeated 
the  word  "  Others  ?  " 

"Three  others,"  said  the  Man  of  Truth, 
in  accurate  confirmation. 

"  You  will  comprehend,  therefore,"  con- 
tinued the  Ambassador,  boldly,  "  how  great 
must  have  been  our  ignorance  in  that  we  are, 
as  you  observe,  but  three.  Had  we  not  been 
in  ignorance,  undoubtedly  we  should  all  have 
come  —  to  apologise.  Even  if  there  had  been 
no  bridge,"  he  added,  as  an  appropriate  after- 
thought. 

She  pursed  her  lips.  "  Where  are  they  ? " 
she  asked,  still  looking  round. 

"We  left  them,"  replied  the  Ambassador, 
guardedly,  "  on  the  other  side  of  the  stream." 

"  Smoking,"  commented  the  Man  of  Truth. 

She  pondered  a  little :  then  "  Can  they  bow 
too  ? "  she  enquired. 

"  Passably  well,  madam,"  the  Ambassador 
answered,  with  the  air  of  one  who  is  sure  of 
his  pupils,  but  not  unduly  proud  on  that 
account. 

"  It  seems  hardly  fair  .  .  ."  she  began 
thoughtfully,   and   hesitated.       The   Ambassa- 


lo  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

dor  was  all  attention.  She  seemed  to  come  to 
a  sudden  determination.  "It  seems  hardly  fair 
that  only  three  of  you  ...  I  think  you  ought 
to  go  and  find  the  others  and  bring  them  here 
—  to  apologise."  She  laughed  as  she  added 
the  words,  and  went  on  more  seriously,  "  While 
you  are  doing  so  I  will  see  about  tea." 

It  is  the  most  difficult  thing  in  the  world  to 
retire  from  the  presence  gracefully,  but  the 
Ambassador  accomplished  it  as  though  his 
days  were  entirely  devoted  to  the  service  of 
royalty.  He  led  the  way  back  across  the 
lawn  to  the  rosary,  while  the  others  followed 
him,  their  shoulders  a  little  shrugged,  to  miti- 
gate the  stab  of  critical  eyes  in  the  rear. 

"  Tea,"  remarked  the  Man  of  Truth  when 
they  were  out  of  earshot,  "  good  !  " 

"  The  teapot  should  be  made  of  silver," 
murmured  the  Scribe,  thinking  of  the  fitness 
of  things.  The  Man  of  Truth  reproved  him  : 
"  A  silver  pot  makes  bad  tea,"  he  asserted. 

The  Ambassador  said  nothing,  but  strode 
on  till  he  reached  the  fountain.  There  a 
curious  sight  met  his  eyes.  In  the  middle 
of  the  path  stood  a  son  of  the  soil,  impassive. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  ii 

with  fork  in  one  hand  and  wicker  basket  in 
the  other.  Before  him  stood  the  Mime  and 
the  Poet,  checked  in  their  onward  career  and 
obviously  indignant.  The  Mime  was  speak- 
ing with  arms  awave  and  eyes  akindle. 

"  Thou,  old  Adam's  likeness,  set  to  dress  this  garden, 

How  dares  thy  harsh,  rude  tongue  sound  this  unpleas- 
i  ingnews?" 

The  aptness  of  the  quotation  was  lost  on 
the  son  of  the  soil ;  he  repeated  the  unpleasing 
news.     "  These  grounds  is  private,"  said  he. 

"  The  word  '  private  '  .  .  ."  began  the  Poet, 
but  he  was  somewhat  rudely  interrupted. 

"  You  can't  come  in  here,"  said  the  man 
with  the  fork,  "  so  you'd  best  turn  about  and 
go  back  where  you  came  from." 

"O  man  of  mud,"  protested  the  Mime, 

"  I  am  constant  as  the  northern  star 
Of  whose  true-fixed  and  resting  quality 
There  is  no  fellow  in  the  firmament." 

"  Round  you  turn  and  out  you  go,"  said 
the  man  of  mud  raising  his  fork,  an  action 
which  somewhat  affected  the  constancy  of  the 
northern  star,  for  he  backed  a  little,  explaining 


12  THE    COURT   OF   SACHARISSA 

to  the  Poet  that  "  Hercules  himself  must  yield 
to  odds." 

The  Ambassador  saw  that  it  was  time  to 
intervene.  He  stepped  forward  and  said  with 
magnificence,  "  Kindly  allow  these  gentlemen 
to  pass,  they  are  friends  of  mine." 

An  intellect  of  higher  grade  would  have  suc- 
cumbed at  once,  but  Cerberus  was  not  impressed. 
"Oh,  are  they?"  he  said.    "And  who  are  you?" 

The  Ambassador  perceived  that  this  was 
one  of  those  occasions  on  which  the  shadow 
of  diplomacy  is  not  sufficient  without  the  sub- 
stance. "  I,"  he  announced,  placing  thumb 
and  forefinger  in  waistcoat  pocket,  "  am,"  he 
continued,  withdrawing  them,  "  a  guest  at  this 
house,"  he  concluded,  extending  them  toward 
the  gardener,  whose  hand  instantly  dropped 
the  basket  and  came  to  meet  them.  The  argu- 
ment was  entirely  successful ;  Cerberus  pulled 
his  forelock  and  "hoped  to  be  excused,  but 
the  gentlemen  turning  up  so  sudden  he  couldn't 
but  think  .  .  ."  at  which  point  the  Ambassa- 
dor at  once  accepted  and  dismissed  his  apolo- 
gies, and  turning  round  led  the  party  toward 
the  arbour. 


.      A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  13 

"  YouVe  got  to  bow,  and  you Ve  got  to 
apologise,"  said  the  Man  of  Truth  as  they 
went. 

"  To  whom  ?  **  asked  the  Poet. 

"  To  her,"  said  the  Scribe,  guardedly. 

"Who  is  she?"  the  Mime  enquired,  not 
without  reason. 

"  The  person  who's  going  to  give  us  tea," 
explained  the  Man  of  Truth.  "  She's  pretty," 
he  added  with  some  finality. 

There  was  no  time  for  further  explanations, 
for  they  were  already  at  the  arbour,  at  whose 
door  a  wicker  table  loaded  with  silver  and  china 
denoted  that  tea  was  ready.  Half  a  dozen 
basket  chairs  were  set  in  a  semicircle  round 
the  table,  while  the  giver  of  the  feast  herself 
was  seated  just  within  the  arbour.  The  Am- 
bassador motioned  to  the  two  new-comers  to 
step  forward  and  make  their  salutation.  The 
bow  of  the  Mime  was  a  wonderful  thing : 
while  it  missed  something  of  the  quality  of 
the  Ambassador's,  in  quantity  it  exceeded  the 
efforts  of  all  the  party  put  together.  It  sug- 
gested the  Oriental  prostration,  saving  only  that 
no  part  of  him  but  his  feet  actually  touched 


14  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

the  ground.  The  obeisance  of  the  Poet,  on  the 
other  hand,  was  somewhat  tempered  with  the 
consciousness  of  genius  in  difficulties,  and  there- 
fore possessed  more  of  dignity  than  of  grace. 
The  lady  made  smiling  acknowledgement  and 
waited  for  them  to  speak. 

"Apologise,"  prompted  the  Man  of  Truth, 
with  his  eye  on  the  tea-table. 

"  The  essence  of  an  apology,"  began  the 
Poet  at  the  beginning,  "  consists  in  the  certi- 
tude of  the  person  offending  .  .  ."  here  the 
Ambassador   felt   called   upon    to   interpret. 

"  My  friend,"  he  said,  "  wishes  to  convey  to 
you  that  he  feels  how  insufficient  are  mere 
words  to  atone  for  the  gravity  of  his  trespass." 

She  accepted  the  interpretation  and  glanced 
at  the  Mime  who  was  already  in  an  attitude. 
His  apology  was  something  unexpected. 

"  Whip  me,  ye  devils," 

he  began, 

"  From  the  possession  of  this  heavenly  sight ! 
Blow  me  about  in  winds  :  roast  me  in  sulphur  ! 
Wash  me  in  steep  down  gulfs  of  liquid  fire." 

Fortunately  he  had  to  pause  to  consider  how 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  15 

he  should  go  on,  and  the  Ambassador  was  able 
to  calm  her  evident  fears. 

"  My  other  friend,"  he  said,  "  who  has  missed 
his  vocation,  is  apt  to  endulge  in  figures  of 
speech,  but  what  he  means  is  that  he  is  very- 
sorry." 

She  laughed,  still,  however,  keeping  a  ner- 
vous eye  on  the  Mime,  whose  tension,  now  that 
he  had  said  his  say  effectively,  appeared  to  re- 
lax. Then  she  made  a  little  speech.  "  Gen- 
tlemen, I  am  very  glad  of  the  fortunate  accident 
which  has  enabled  you  to  come  to-day.  Please 
sit  down,  and  let  me  give  you  some  tea." 

While  the  Ambassador  was  handing  round 
cups  and  cakes,  a  thought  struck  him.  "  Dear 
me,"  he  exclaimed,  "  1  had  quite  forgotten." 

"  What  ?  "  asked  his  hostess. 

"  The  other  member  of  our  party,"  he  re- 
plied.    "  I  suppose  he  is  still  by  the  bridge." 

The  Man  of  Truth  expressed  his  profound 
conviction  that  tea,  even  as  a  mere  abstract,  dis- 
tant idea,  would  be  more  than  sufficient  to 
ensure  the  appearance  of  the  Exotic,  and  the 
others  murmured  assent. 

"  What    did    you    call    him  ? "    she    asked. 


1 6  THE   COURT   OF   SACHARISSA 

*^  The  Exotic?  What  a  curious  name!"  she 
said,  on  learning  that  she  had  heard  correctly. 

"  He  is  a  curious  person,"  said  the  Man  of 
Truth,  as  though  he  himself  were  puzzled. 

At  this  moment  a  voice  reached  them  from 
the  other  side  of  the  lawn.  It  was  in  fact  the 
Exotic's  and  it  complained,  "Where  are  you, 
and  where  are  my  strawberries  ?  "  He  caught 
sight  of  the  group  and  came  towards  it.  He 
showed  no  visible  signs  of  surprise  at  finding 
his  friends  seated  at  tea  on  the  lawn  of  a 
stranger,  and  it  so  chanced  that  he  could  not 
see  the  lady  herself  who  was  hidden  from  him 
by  the  side  of  the  arbour. 

"  Oh,  there  you  are,"  he  said  as  he  came 
nearer.  "  I  met  a  gardener  man  who  said  I  was 
trespassing.  So  I  said  '  Am  I  ? '  and  he  said 
'  You  are.'  So  I  asked  him  how  he  knew,  and 
he  said  he  knew  very  well  and  I  must  go  away. 
Then  I  asked  him  if  he  had  ever  heard  the 
Tale  of  the  Considerate  Kurd,  and  he  said  he 
didn't  want  to  hear  any  tales.  So  I  began  to 
tell  it  to  him,  and  I  hadn't  got  any  farther  than 
the  Careful  Camel  when  he  interrupted  me  and 
asked   me   if    I    was   a   friend   of   his,  and    he 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL 


17 


winked.  I  didn't  know  what  he  meant,  but  I 
said  I  was,  and  I  winked.  And  then  he  begged 
my  pardon  and  I  came  on.  And  now  I  want 
my  strawberries  in  a  cabbage-leaf." 

To  this  curious  history  she  hstened  with 
round  eyes,  and  then  she  whispered  to  the  Man 
of  Truth,  "Now,  I  understand  —  a  Httle." 
With  that  she  jumped  up  from  her  chair,  took 
a  plate  of  strawberries  from  the  table  and  com- 
ing out  of  the  arbour  confronted  the  Exotic. 
"I'm  so  sorry,"  she  said,  "we  haven't  a  cab- 
bage-leaf; will  a  plate  do  ?  If  not,  I  can  easily 
get  a  leaf  from  the  kitchen  garden." 

To  do  the  Exotic  justice,  though  he  was  a 
good  deal  taken  aback,  he  accepted  the  plate 
of  strawberries  with  murmured  thanks ;  then 
he  took  off  his  hat,  and  then  he  looked  help- 
lessly at  the  Ambassador  who  preserved  an 
admirable  gravity  and  relieved  the  situation  by 
saying,  "  Owing  to  my  remissness  my  friend, 
of  course,  does  not  understand  that  you  have 
so  honoured  us  as  to  ask  us  to  tea.  It  is  my 
fault,  my  fault  entirely ;  I  fear  I  have  again  to 
ask  your  forgiveness." 

The  Man  of  Truth  could  no  longer  contain 


1 8  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

himself,  and  gave  vent  to  mighty  laughter.  As 
at  a  signal  everybody  joined  in ;  even  the 
Exotic  smiled  patiently,  and  took  the  oppor- 
tunity to  drop  into  the  vacant  chair,  where 
with  fine  presence  of  mind  he  at  once  con- 
sumed a  strawberry. 

When  at  last  the  laughter  had  subsided  to  a 
general  smile,  the  lady,  with  a  curiosity  which 
in  the  circumstances  was  only  natural,  opened 
conversation  with  a  question.  "  Are  you  all 
staying  in  this  neighbourhood  ^  "  she  asked  the 
Ambassador. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  we  have  come  down  from 
London." 

"  For  the  afternoon,"  added  the  Scribe. 

"  By  train,"  explained  the  Man.  of  Truth, 
somewhat  needlessly. 

"  We  commonly  spend  an  afternoon  in  the 
country  once  a  week,"  continued  the  Ambassa- 
dor ;  "  we  find  it  an  excellent  tonic  for  the 
brain." 

The  Exotic  held  a  strawberry  poised  midway 
between  his  plate  and  his  lips  while  he  threw 
light  on  the  situation.  "  We  go  to  a  terminus," 
he  said,  "  and  find  out  the  names  of  places  where 


,       A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  19 

trains  go  to.  Then  If  we  like  the  look  of  a 
name  we  go  there.  We  went  to  Shepherd*s 
Bush  once/'  he  continued  in  hushed  reminis- 
cence. "  We  thought  we  should  find  a  nice 
com«mon  and  sit  under  the  bush  enjoying  the 
air  and  talking  to  the  shepherd." 

"  And  did  you  ?  "  she  asked,  laughing. 

"  Noj"  he  replied,  "  we  found  a  patch  of 
grass  in  the  middle  of  houses,  surrounded  by  a 
railing.  There  was  no  air  and  no  bush  and  no 
shepherd,  and  the  inhabitants  were  clinging  to 
the  railing."  She  looked  her  question.  "  They 
were  intoxicated,"  he  said  wearily,  as  though 
the  memory  bored  him. 

"  And  what  did  you  do  then  ?  "  she  enquired. 

"  We  went  back  into  the  station,"  he  said, 
"and  waited  until  there  was  a  train  back  to 
town."  With  that  the  Exotic  returned  to  his 
strawberry  and  silence. 

The  Man  of  Truth,  who  had  been  listening 
with  unconcealed  surprise,  could  no  longer  re- 
frain from  speech.  "  WeVe  never  been  to 
Shepherd's  Bush,"  he  said  in  an  injured  tone. 

The  Exotic  was  roused  to  one  more  effort. 
"  That  was  before  you  were  thought  of,"    he 


20  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

said  reprovingly  to  the  Man  of  Truth.  "  But 
we  are  never  going  there  again/'  he  admitted  to 
the  lady.  "We  have  found  out  how  to  avoid 
it.  We  never  pay  less  than  four  shillings  for 
our  tickets  now,  because  anything  under  that  is 
sure  to  be  houses,  and  we  never  go  to  a  place 
that  is  named  after  a  person,  because  that  attracts 
people  so.  If  there  had  not  been  a  shepherd 
with  a  desire  for  notoriety,  we  should  have 
found  a  common  and  a  bush  and  air.'*  He 
sank  back  exhausted  with  the  closeness  of  his 
reasoning. 

"  I  think  you  are  wise,"  she  said  kindly. 
Then  she  turned  to  the  Ambassador  with  an 
irrelevance  that  was  flattering  to  him  at  least. 
"  Oh,  I  do  hope  you  take  care  of  them." 

The  implied  compHment  may  have  been 
only  comparative,  but  the  Ambassador  by  no 
means  rejected  it.  He  said  modestly  that  he 
did  his  best.  The  Man  of  Truth,  who  seemed 
a  Httle  restive,  was  about  to  say  something  when 
the  Mime  suddenly  changed  the  current  of 
talk. 

"In  this  garden  I  could  act  for  ever,"  he 
exclaimed  with  rapture. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  21 

"Won't  you  act  something  now?"  she  sug- 
gested pohtely,  but  the  others  raised  a  protest. 

"  For  ever  is  such  a  long  time  to  sit  through,'* 
said  the  Scribe. 

",And  it  would  be  for  ever  if  you  once  let 
him  begin,"  said  the  Man  of  Truth,  brutal  but 
convinced.  It  may  be  that  she  had  something 
of  the  same  feeling,  for  she  did  not  press  the 
point. 

"  It  is  indeed  most  stimulating,"  said  the 
Ambassador,  smihng  at  the  Poet  who,  having 
after  a  long  search  found  his  notebook,  was 
feeling  in  all  his  pockets  for  a  pencil.  He  was 
quite  lost  to  his  surroundings,  and  the  Ambas- 
sador explained  to  her  in  a  low  tone  that 
sudden  inspiration  always  had  this  effect  on 
him. 

Meanwhile  the  Scribe  had  also  evidently 
been  revolving  something  in  his  mind,  and  at 
last  he  uttered  his  thought.  "You  have  a 
pretty  trout  stream  at  the  bottom  of  your 
garden,"   he  said. 

"  Are  you  fond  of  fishing  ?  "  she  asked,  fol- 
lowing the  Scribe's  suggestive  remark  to  its 
logical   conclusion.     He  admitted  that  it  was 


22  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

so.  "  Ohj  you  ought  to  come  again  and  fish," 
she  said.  "  Yes,  you  must,  and  catch  me  some 
trout.  I'll  give  you  some  tea,  so  it  will  be  a 
fair  exchange,"  she  laughed.  "  There  is  no 
one  here  to  catch  them.  Couldn't  you  all 
come  and  help  him  ?  "  she  added  impulsively. 
"  In  the  country  .  .  ."  But  her  sentence  re- 
mained unfinished.  Perhaps  she  had  intended 
some  explanation  of  her  motive  in  giving  the 
invitation.  Instead,  however,  she  looked  to 
the  Ambassador  for  answer. 

"  Our  pardon  is  complete,"  he  returned 
without  hesitation ;  "  we  are  permitted  to  re- 
enter Eden." 

"  I  will  see  that  no  sentinel  bars  the  path," 
she  said  with  a  smile.  "  Will  you  come  then 
this  day  next  week  ?  "  The  Ambassador  prom- 
ised for  his  party. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  hinted,  looking  at  the  Poet, 
who  had  found  his  pencil,  "  the  poem  will  be 
finished  by  then  !  " 

"It  shall  be,"  the  Ambassador  took  upon 
himself  to  say. 

The  general  enthusiasm  was  by  this  time 
communicated    in    some    degree    even    to    the 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  23 

Exotic,  who  said  suddenly,  with  more  energy 
than  he  had  yet  displayed,  "  I  feel  as  if  I  could 
narrate  the  History  of  the  Considerate  Kurd." 

"  Oh,  do,"  said  the  lady,  but  even  as  the 
Exotic  was  framing  the  word  'considerate,* 
the  Ambassador  had  consulted  his  watch  and 
was  upon  his  feet. 

"Alas,  madam,"  he  said,  "  time  wears  away, 
and  your  train  service  is  something  exacting. 
I  find  we  have  only  twenty  minutes  in  which  to 
get  to  the  station,  and  so  we  must  tear  ourselves 
away  from  this  enchanted  spot.  Please  allow 
me  to  offer  our  united  thanks  for  your  courteous 
hospitality,  and  for  this  delightful  afternoon 
spent  so  unexpectedly  in   Eden." 

"Well,  if  you  have  to  catch  a  train,"  she 
replied,  "  I  won't  try  and  keep  you ;  but  come 
earlier  next  week  if  you  can.  I  want  to  hear 
that  story,"  she  said  laughingly  to  the  Exotic. 

"  It  shall  be  told,"  he  said  with  much  deter- 
mination. She  held  out  her  hand  to  the  Am- 
bassador, who  took  it,  bowing  low.  The  others 
followed  his  example,  and  then  they  passed 
across  the  lawn  back  toward  the  rosary. 

"  Remember  to  come  early,"  she  cried  after 


24  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

them.  The  Ambassador  turned  and  acknow- 
ledged her  courtesy,  and  then  followed  the 
others  past  the  fountain  and  along  the  yew 
alley.  They  walked  without  speaking  till  they 
reached  the  bridge. 

Here  the  Man  of  Truth  gave  utterance  to 
the  problem  that  was  troubling  him.  "  I  won- 
der who  she  is,"  he  said. 

"  Her  name,"  said  the  Poet,  dreamily,  "  is 
Sacharissa."  It  was  felt  that  this  was  one  of 
his  more  inspired  moments,  and  the  truth  of 
his  statement  was  admitted  in  silence. 


SCENE    II 


SCENE  II 

CHAPTER   II 

"  I  HOPE  you  have  not  forgotten  the  poem," 
said  Sacharissa  to  the  Poet.  There  had  in 
truth  been  no  danger  of  his  forgetting  it ;  the 
Ambassador  himself  had  pledged  his  word  in 
the  matter.  Therefore  in  the  course  of  the 
week  he  had  paid  more  than  one  visit  to  the 
Poet,  and  partly  by  guile,  partly  by  precept, 
had  succeeded  in  overcoming  the  natural  ten- 
dency of  genius  to  regard  a  few  desultory  words 
written  in  pencil  upon  a  scrap  of  paper  as  a 
finished  masterpiece.  Even  more,  he  had 
caused  him  to  write  the  completed  work  in 
ink,  on  a  fair  quarto  sheet,  and  had  placed  it 
in  his  own  pocket  for  its  better  preservation. 
So  now  it  was  with  an  easy  mind  that  he  saw 
his  party  seated  as  before  in  the  hospitable 
chairs;  he  had  brought  it  through  all  the  mani- 
fold dangers  of  rail  and  road  without  accident 

27 


28  THE    COURT   OF   SACHARISSA 

(unless  the  loss  of  the  Exotic's  ticket  can  be 
considered  an  accident),  he  had  fulfilled  his 
promise  to  his  hostess,  and  he  was  content. 

"  He  hasn't  forgotten  it,"  said  the  Man  of 
Truth.  "  He  wanted  to,  but  the  Ambassador 
stood  over  him  till  he  finished  it." 

Sacharissa  looked  her  amused  approbation  at 
the  Ambassador,  who,  with  a  tolerant  smile, 
suggested  that  the  Man  of  Truth  was  some- 
what given  to  exaggeration. 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  returned.  "  I  heard  you 
threaten  to  finish  it  yourself." 

"I  don't  think  you  can  have  heard  quite  that," 
said  the  Ambassador.  "  I  may  perhaps  have 
asked  our  friend  if  he  needed  any  assistance." 

"  Well,  it's  the  same  thing,"  persisted  the 
Man  of  Truth. 

"  Are  you  a  poet,  too  ? "  asked  Sacharissa. 
The  Ambassador  deprecated  the  idea  with  a 
gesture,  and  murmured  something  about  '  oc- 
casional verses.' 

"  It  is  one  of  our  traditions,"  remarked  the 
Scribe,  "  that  the  Ambassador  can  do  every- 
thing." 

"  He  is  a  perfect  Autolycus,"  confirmed  the 
Mime. 


,      A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  29 

"  Is  that  quite  a  compliment  ?  "  Sacharissa 
asked  doubtfully. 

"  It  is  so  meant,"  the  Scribe  explained. 
"  For  him  the  merit  of  a  character  largely 
depends  on  its  acting  possibilities." 

Any  retort  the  Mime  might  have  made  was 
rendered  impossible  by  the  Poet,  who  had  not 
been  listening  to  the  conversation,  but  now 
suddenly  remembered  that  the  lady  had  asked 
him  a  question.  "  It  would  have  been  impos- 
sible for  me  to  forget,"  he  assured  her  ear- 
nestly. Everybody  laughed,  and  he  looked 
round  a  little  bewildered. 

Sacharissa  came  to  his  aid.  "  It  is  very  nice 
of  you  to  say  so,"  she  said  kindly.  "Will  you 
read  it  to  us  ? " 

The  Poet  expressed  his  readiness  to  do  so, 
and  felt  in  his  pockets.  His  incipient  alarm 
was  quieted  by  the  Ambassador,  who  handed 
a  sheet  of  paper  across  to  him.  Sacharissa 
noticed  the  action  with  a  quiet  smile.  The 
Poet  looked  at  the  paper  in  surprise,  but  his 
brow  cleared  when  he  found  that  his  own 
handwriting  was  upon  it,  and  without  more 
delay  he  began  to  read  :  — 


30  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

"  At  trysting-gate,  my  April  maid  so  fair, 
Alone  I  wait,  thou  cam'st  not  there ; 

Why  so  unkind  to  me  ? 
Thy  heart  yet  sleeps.     Ah,  didst  thou  know 
A  lover's  pain, 
A  lover's  woe. 
Thou  wouldst  not  use  me  so  disdainfully. 

"  Sunshine  and  shower  change  all  the  April  day, 
Sunshine  thy  '  yea  '  and  shower  thy  '  nay ' : 

Thou'rt  all  caprice  to  me. 
All  smiles  one  hour,  then  nought  but  scorn. 
Thou  fancy  free. 
And  I  love-lorn. 
Thy  waywardness  I  follow  mournfully. 

"  I  woo  :  thou'lt  pout  thy  lips  to  flout  me. 
Such  Hps  as  ne'er  should  frame  a  '  nay.' 
Though  I  may  doubt  thou  canst  not  doubt  me ; 

Awake  thy  heart,  'tis  all  I  pray. 
Ah  !  make  thy  yoke  less  hard  to  bear. 
For  Love's  dear  sake  some  pity  spare. 

Is  Love  to  thee  but  play? 
Thy  slave  am  I,  then  mercy  show. 
Ah  !  bid  me  stay. 
Or  bid  me  go. 
Take  not  my  heart  to  break  and  throw  away." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Sacharissa,  simply,  when 
he  had  finished.     "  It  is  charming." 

The   Man    of  Truth    pounced    on   an  ana- 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  31 

chronism.  "  Why  do  you  make  her  '  April 
Maid '  ?  '*  he  asked  in  a  combative  tone. 
"  This  isn't  April.'' 

"  Isn't  it  ?  "  asked  the  Poet,  dreamily. 

"•No,  she  ought  to  be  Queen  of  Roses  or 
something  like  that,  that  is,  if  you  mean  it  for 
Sacharissa.  I  suppose  you  do  mean  it  for 
Sacharissa  ?  "  he  questioned  in  a  manner  that 
left  no  doubt  as  to  the  wound  that  would  be 
inflicted  on  his  feelings  by  a  negative  answer. 
But  the  Poet  had  returned  to  his  meditations, 
and  answered  nothing. 

"  Would  it  be  indiscreet  of  me,"  began  the 
lady,  "  if  I  asked  who  Sacharissa  is  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  the  Man  of  Truth. 
"  Sacharissa  .  .  ."  the  Ambassador  averted  the 
bludgeon. 

"  Sacharissa,"  he  said,  "  is  the  lady  celebrated 
by  the  poet  Edmund  Waller.  My  friend 
finds  in  his  own  muse  something  akin  to  that 
of  the  old  poet,  and  so  has  borrowed  his  ab- 
stract divinity."  Therewith  he  looked  rapiers 
at  the  Man  of  Truth,  who  was  opening  his 
mouth  again,  but  subsided  on  encountering 
the  glance. 


32  THE   COURT   OF   SACHARISSA 

"  I  understand,"  said  Sacharissa,  slowly,  as 
though  she  did  not  understand  at  all. 

"What  a  bad  hostess  I  am  !  "  she  exclaimed 
a  moment  after.  "  I  quite  forgot  it  last  week, 
and  now  I  am  forgetting  it  again  to-day." 
She  jumped  up  and  reached  a  silver  box  from 
a  table  inside  the  arbour.  She  handed  it  to 
the  Ambassador.  "  Please  smoke  if  you  care 
to,"  she  said. 

"  This  is  indeed  kind,"  said  the  Ambassador, 
warmly,  as  he  passed  the  cigarettes  round,  so 
warmly  in  fact  that  she  smiled. 

The  necessity  of  taking  and  lighting  a  ciga- 
rette spurred  the  Mime  to  activity.  "  I  like 
poems  about  love,"  he  announced.  "  I  have 
loved,"  he  continued  with  a  profound  sigh. 
Sacharissa  glanced  at  him  through  her  eye- 
lashes. 

"  You  suffered  ?  "  enquired  the  Ambassador, 
politely. 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  33 

The   Mime's  Tale 

"  Unutterably/'  groaned  the  Mime.  "  She 
was  fair,  a  daughter  of  a  hundred  squires. 
She  ,sat  her  untamed  steed  like  some  Brunn- 
hilde  of  old.  I  loved  her  to  distraction."  He 
warmed  to  his  narrative  and  lived  it  all  again. 
"  '  Wilt  thou  be  mine  ? '  I  entreat.  She  softens, 
she  half  yields  ;  I  take  her  hand,"  here  he 
grasped  the  cigarette-box,  thereby  embarrass- 
ing the  Exotic  who  was  about  to  take  a 
cigarette,  "  but  no,  she  will  not,  she  draws  it 
away."  The  Ambassador  rescued  the  box. 
"'I,  a  daughter  of  a  hundred  squires,  will  wed 
no  man  who  cannot  follow  me  to  the  death.' 
I  tremble,  I  turn  pale,  but  I  am  resolved. 
The  horses  are  at  the  door.  Booted  and 
spurred  I  climb  into  the  saddle."  The  better 
to  illustrate  this  process  he  extricated  himself 
from  his  chair,  a  display  of  energy  which  the 
Exotic  seemed  to  resent.  Sacharissa  kept  a 
watchful  eye  on  the  Mime,  unconsciously 
edging  a  little  in  the  direction  of  the 
Ambassador. 

"  Tally-ho  !  we    are  away  !  "  continued    the 


34  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

Mime.  The  Poet  started ;  the  suddenness 
of  the  conversation  to  which  he  awoke  surprised 
him.  "  The  hounds  stream  out  before  us. 
She  leads  the  field.  But  see,  right  in  our  path 
lies  dark  and  grim  a  monster  hedge.  No 
gate  !  No  gate  !  "  At  this  point  the  sense  of 
impending  tragedy  came  upon  the  Poet,  and 
he  nervously  clutched  the  arms  of  his  chair. 
"  Her  courage  but  rises  higher  in  the  face  of 
death.  Alas,  that  one  so  fair  .  .  .  but  no, 
she  lifts  her  horse,  she  rises  in  the  air,  she  is 
over,  she  is  gone!"  The  Mime  leaned  for- 
ward, peering  eagerly  into  the  distance,  and 
after  a  moment  of  breathless  suspense,  during 
which  the  distance  between  Sacharissa  and  the 
Ambassador  sensibly  decreased,  he  threw  up 
his  arms  and  crashed  backwards  into  his  chair. 
The  Exotic  delicately  applied  his  handkerchief 
to  his  brow. 

"  That's  not  your  chair,"  observed  the  Man 
of  Truth,  reprovingly.  "  But  what  happened 
to  you  ?  " 

"  I  fell  off,"  said  the  Mime,  whose  enthusi- 
asm had  evaporated. 

"On  her  side  of  the  hedge?  "  eagerly  asked 
the  Poet. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  35 

"  No,"  he  replied  curtly. 

"  And  the  lady  ?  "  enquired  the  Scribe,  after 
an  interval. 

"She  married/'  the  Mime  answered. 

"The  son  of  a  hundred  squires,  1  suppose  ?" 
the  Scribe  said.  The  Mime  nodded,  and  re- 
lapsed into  gloomy  silence.  Sacharissa  moved 
her  chair  back  to  its  original  position. 

"I  can  see  her  still,"  began  the  Poet,  who 
seemed  to  have  been  thoroughly  roused  by  the 
Mime's  story.  The  Ambassador  was  about 
to  address  Sacharissa,  but  he  paused:  it  might 
be  that  the  Poet  had  stumbled  upon  one  of 
his  more  fortunate  moments.  He  glanced  at 
the  Man  of  Truth,  to  signify  that  interruptions 
would  be  out  of  place,  and  the  Poet  was 
allowed  to  continue. 


36  THE    COURT   OF   SACHARISSA 

The  Poet's  Tale 

"  I  was  sauntering  through  the  cornfields, 
whose  ripe  ears  rustled  and  rippled  faintly  as 
the  evening  breeze  sighed  over  them  with  a 
last  good-night  caress.  The  harvest  moon 
touched  with  silver  the  narrow  pathway  that 
stretched  before  me  into  the  shadow  of  the  dis- 
tant trees  ;  the  poppies  drooped  in  slumber. 
Only  the  moths  were  stirring ;  to  and  fro 
they  danced  by  the  hedgerows,  under  the 
moon,  seeking  in  fairy  courtship  their  humble 
mates,  the  glow-worms,  who  timorously 
quenched  their  light  at  my  approach.  The 
spirit  of  the  evening  claimed  me  for  its  own  ; 
I  could  not  hasten,  and  midway  across  the 
field  I  lingered,  gazing  into  the  shadows  of 
the  grove.  She  whom  I  had  long  sought 
must  surely  be  awaiting  me  there  ;  she  would 
be  leaning  on  the  gate,  while  the  soft  evening 
breeze  gently  kissed  her  brow  and  delicately 
caressed  her  hair.  She  awaited  my  coming, 
making  the  night  lovelier  by  her  presence. 

"  I  tried  to  picture  her  as  I  stood,  and  my 
heart  yearned    for    her.     Without    her    I    was 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  37 

alone ;  she  was  the  completion  of  all  things.  I 
wondered  if  she  was  dreaming  of  my  coming, 
dreaming  that  we  two  should  together  find  out 
the  world's  old  secret,  the  secret  that  lies  hid 
from  every  eye,  that  but  few  can  seek  and 
none  can  find  alone,  for  only  by  love  to 
those,  that  love  is  even  a  glimpse  of  it  re- 
vealed. 

"  The  stars  smiled  on  me.  I  uncovered  my 
head ;  it  seemed  that  the  hour  was  sacred,  full 
of  a  divine  peace.  I  knew  that  I  stood  on 
the  threshold,  and  I  knew  that  she  held  the 
key.     And  I  watched  long. 

"  But  above  the  shrill  cry  of  a  bat  rang  out, 
and  the  calm  was  broken,  the  spell  was  shat- 
tered. He  sought  his  prey  amid  the  pale 
fluttering  moths  that  danced  in  the  moon 
seeking  only  honey  of  flowers  to  sweeten  their 
little  lives.  Night  was  profaned,  her  ancient 
peace  was  gone  like  a  dream,  and  the  fear  of 
death  was  abroad.  Sadly  I  retraced  my 
steps." 

The  Poet  stopped;  he  appeared  to  have 
finished.  The  Man  of  Truth  looked  puzzled. 
"  What  about  her  ?  "  he  asked. 


38  THE    COURT   OF   SACHARISSA 

"  About  whom  ?  "  enquired  the  Poet. 

"  Why  the  lady  leaning  on  the  gate,"  de- 
manded the  Man  of  Truth,  indignantly.  "You 
said  you  retraced  your  steps." 

"I  don't  think  she  can  have  been  there." 
The  Poet  searched  his  memory.  "I  don't 
remember  seeing  her." 

Sacharissa  looked  at  him  in  some  astonish- 
ment, while  the  Man  of  Truth  reproved  him. 
"  People  shouldn't  start  telling  a  story  unless 
they've  got  a  story  to  tell,"  he  said  with 
vigour.  But  the  Poet  had  become  silent,  and 
returned  no  answer. 

The  Exotic  came  to  the  rescue  of  the  Poet 
with  a  contented  sigh.  "  I  liked  it,"  he  said. 
"  It  was  beautifully  restful.  Please  tell  it 
again."  A  loud  but  inarticulate  protest  came 
from  the  Man  of  Truth. 

"  I  presume,"  said  the  Scribe,  "  that  you 
have  had  your  little  revenges.  Has  she  writ- 
ten a  poem  about  the  trysting-gate,  too  ?  " 

The  harassed  Poet  looked  round  for  aid ; 
he  half  repented  his  excursion  into  prose.  "  I 
don't  quite  understand,"  he  said  in  bewilder- 
ment. 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  39 

"  Were  you  really  expecting  to  meet  a 
lady  ?  '*  asked  Sacharissa. 

"  On  such  a  night  all  things  seemed  pos- 
sible," was  the  Poet's   apologetic   explanation. 

"  I  knew  there  wasn't  anyone,"  declared 
the  Man  of  Truth.  "  It's  a  pity  you  tried  to 
make, a  story  of  it." 

The  Poet  was  goaded  to  retort.  "  Perhaps 
you  can  tell  a  better  story  yourself,"  he  sug- 
gested. 

"Well,  I  could  tell  something  that  really 
happened,  anyhow,"  returned  the  Man  of 
Truth.  He  assumed  an  elderly  expression,  "  I 
also  have  loved.  It's  quite  true,"  he  persisted, 
annoyed  at  the  merriment   he  had   provoked. 

The  Ambassador  helped  him.  "  Tell  us 
about  it,"  he  said,  "  if  you  can  bring  yourself 
to  speak  of  it." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  can  do  that,"  he  returned, 
"  though  it  still  annoys  me.  I  was  at  the  sea- 
side, and  there  was  a  girl  who  walked  on  the 
pier.  She  was  pretty,  and  I  wanted  to  get  to 
know  her,  but  I  couldn't  get  an  introduction 
anyhow.  So  I  asked  the  Exotic  what  I  should 
do,  and  he  said  he  would  help  me  out,  and  he 


40  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

told  me  of  an  infallible  dodge  of  automatic  in- 
troduction." The  Man  of  Truth  paused  to 
refresh  his  memory.  "  I  can't  quite  remember 
how  it  went.  You  got  a  bangle  .  .  .  what 
was  it  ?  "  He  turned  to  the  Exotic,  who  looked 
at  him,  innocently  amazed  at  being  brought 
into  the  story.  He  was  not  however  suffered 
to  escape,  and  under  pressure  he  began  to 
speak  in  a  parable. 

"  She  was  veiled,  as  are  all  the  women  of 
that  sunny  land,"  he  said  with  apparent  irrele- 
vance, "  but  I  could  see  her  eyes,  and  they 
roused  in  me  a  curiosity,  and  a  desire  to  cul- 
tivate her  acquaintance. 

"As  neither  she  nor  her  attendant  were  pro- 
ceeding with  any  unseemly  haste,  I  bestirred 
myself  to  walk  tov/ard  the  bazaar  whither  they 
too  appeared  to  be  going.  I  seated  myself  in 
a  booth  and  meditated  over  my  coffee  and  a 
cigarette.  It  so  chanced  that  they  entered  the 
next  booth  wherein  were  displayed  the  wares 
of  a  dusky  jeweller,  and  I  could  listen  to  the 
bargaining.  The  purchase  eventually  made 
was  a  necklace  of  amber  and  turquoise,  almost 
worthy  of  the  probable   charms   of  its  future 


.  A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  41 

resting-place.  As  they  departed  I  noticed  that 
a  precisely  similar  ornament  still  remained  in  the 
jeweller's  stall,  and  it  may  have  occurred  to  me 
that  by  purchasing  it  and  exhibiting  it  to  the 
owner  of  the  other  at  our  next  meeting.  .  .  /' 


42  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

The   Man  of  Truth's  Tale 

The  Man  of  Truth  broke  in  impatiently. 
"  That  wasn't  it  at  all,"  he  said.  "  I  know 
now.  You  go  into  a  shop  and  buy  an  imi- 
tation gold  bangle  for  a  shilling.  Then  you 
go  on  to  the  pier  until  you  see  the  girl,  and 
you  walk  a  few  yards  behind  her.  Presently 
you  catch  her  up  and  apologise  for  interrupt- 
ing her,  and  say  you  think  she  must  have 
dropped  one  of  her  bangles.  Well,  she  says 
she  hasn't,  and  suggests  that  it  must  have  been 
the  lady  over  there.  But  you  insist,  and  say 
you  know  it  isn't  because  you  have  asked. 
Then  you  ask  what  on  earth  you  are  to  do 
with  the  thing  which  you  suppose  is  valuable. 
Of  course  she  doesn't  know,  and  a  bright  idea 
strikes  you  :  you  ask  her  if  she  would  be  so 
very  kind  as  to  give  it  to  the  attendant  at  the 
ladies'  cloakroom  to  be  left  till  called  for.  She 
says  she  will,  and  you  thank  her  very  much 
and  go  away.  Next  day  you  meet  her  again 
and  ask  if  the  bangle  has  been  claimed,  and 
she  says  no,  and  the  day  after  that  you  say 
that  you  have  asked  after  it  and  find  it  is  still 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  43 

there.  And  so  on  for  several  days  until  you 
and  she  have  a  sort  of  joint  interest  and  are 
quite  on  a  footing/* 

"  A  very  dishonest  proceeding,"  commented 
the  Ambassador  with  much  disapproval. 

"Yes,"  admitted  the  Man  of  Truth,  "it 
was  the  Exotic's  idea.  But  I  did  it  quite 
honestly,  I  had  a  real  gold  bangle." 

"  Did  you  buy  it  with  a  real  shilling  ? " 
asked  the  Scribe.  The  Man  of  Truth  took 
no  notice  of  the  question. 

"  I  borrowed  it  from  my  sister,"  he  ex- 
plained, somewhat  to  Sacharissa's  amusement. 

"Well,  did  you  get  your  introduction  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"No,"  he  replied  indignantly,  "  I  took  it 
up  to  her  and  said  I  thought  she  must  have 
dropped  it,  just  'as  the  Exotic  told  me." 
The  Man  of  Truth  became  furious.  "  It  was 
the  most  dishonest  thing  I  ever  heard  of," 
he  said.  "  She  thanked  me  very  much  and 
said  she  thought  she  must  have,  and  she 
took  my  real  gold  bangle  and  walked  away." 

"  It  served  you  perfectly  right,"  said  the 
Ambassador,  when  he  had  recovered  himself 


44  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

"  What  did  you  do  ?  "  asked  the  Mime. 

"  I  was  too  astonished  to  move  for  a  bit/' 
said  the  Man  of  Truth,  "  and  when  I  did  at 
last  go  after  her  she  was  gone,  and  I  couldn't 
find  her  anywhere." 

"What  could  you  have  done  if  you  had 
found  her  ?  "  asked  the  Poet. 

"  I  should  have  told  her  that  it  wasn't  her 
bangle  after  all,"  he  replied,  "and  that  I  had 
made  a  mistake,  and  I  should  have  taken  it 
away  again." 

The  Ambassador  perceived  that  the  Man 
of  Truth  was  in  some  danger  of  losing  his 
reputation  for  chivalry,  so  he  asked  the  Exotic 
if  he  too  had  not  had  some  experience. 

"  Yes,  I  also  have  loved,"  he  admitted,  smil- 
ing sweetly  at  the  pleasing  recollection.  "  But 
it  could  not  be:"  he  shook  his  head  in  tender 
reminiscence. 

"  Do  tell  me  about  it,"  said  Sacharissa  with 
sympathy,  and  the  Exotic  yielded  and  began 
to  narrate. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  .45 

The  Exotic's  Tale 

"  I  saw  her  go  past  the  window,  and  I 
loved  her  to  distraction  ;  but  she  had  a  green 
feather  in  her  hat,  and  so  I  realised  that  it 
could  not  be." 

"  Is  that  all  the  story  ?  "  asked  Sacharissa, 
after  they  had  waited  a  considerable  time  for 
further  details. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Exotic. 

Sacharissa  looked  at  him  with  pity.  "Have 
you  ever  got  over  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Never,"  he  declared. 

"You  must  be  very  impressionable,"  she 
suggested. 

"  I  am,"  he  said ;  "  a  green  feather  has  al- 
ways had  a  disastrous  effect  on  me."  Sacharissa 
laughed  and  the  Exotic,  looking  pained  at  her 
heartlessness,  composed  himself  to  silence 
again.  But  the  Ambassador  felt  that  duty 
had  been  shirked. 

"  Is  that  the  whole  of  your  experience  ? " 
he  asked  in  a  tone  that  admitted  of  no  evasion. 

"  No,"  the  Exotic  confessed,  "  I  loved 
again.     But   I    do  not  feel  strong  enough  to 


46  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

tell  the  story  now:"  he  looked  pleadingly  at 
Sacharissa,  who  smiled  a  gentle  reproof  at  the 
Ambassador.  "  But,"  he  continued  with  more 
energy,  as  a  thought  struck  him,  "  I  will  narrate 
a  little  tale  that  has  some  love  in  it,  though  it 
did  not  happen  to  me  personally.  It  is  called 
the  Tale  of  the  Considerate  Kurd." 

The  groan  of  the  Man  of  Truth  was  un- 
heard by  Sacharissa,  who  cried :  "  Oh,  yes. 
That  is  the  story  you  promised  me.  Please 
tell  it,"  she  added  with  a  pretty  gesture, 
half  entreaty,  half  command. 

The  Mime,  with  a  readiness  of  resource 
that  would  have  graced  any  stage,  attempted 
to  pass  the  cigarette-box  across  to  the  Scribe, 
and  in  doing  so  clumsily  upset  it  into  the 
chair  of  the  Exotic  to  his  great  discomfort. 
The  Ambassador,  taking  up  the  cue,  apologised 
as  though  he  had  done  it  himself,  and  to  cover 
the  confusion  caused  in  picking  up  the  ciga- 
rettes observed  to  Sacharissa  that  he  saw  the 
tea-tray  coming. 

She  looked  up.  "  Oh,  so  it  is,"  she  said. 
"  Well,  we  will  have  the  story  after  tea.  Will 
you  help  me  to  get  the  table  out  ?  "  And  so 
the  danger  was  for  the  moment  averted. 


SCENE    II 

CHAPTER   III 

The  Exotic  finished  his  third  cup  of  tea  and 
lighted  a  cigarette.  "  I  will  now/'  he  said, 
"  proceed  to  relate,  as  I  promised,  the  Tale  of 
the  Conscientious  Curate  and  the  Superfluous 
Umbrella."  It  should  be  mentioned  in  pass- 
ing, that  during  tea  the  Ambassador  had  found 
an  opportunity  of  a  few  private  words  with 
the  Exotic. 

Sacharissa  looked  surprised.  "  That  was  not 
the  one  you  promised,"  she  said.  "  It  was 
the  Considerate  something." 

"  Oh,  did  I  say  '  considerate  '  ?  "  said  the  Ex- 
otic. "Well,  I  will  relate  the  Tale  of  the  Con- 
siderate Curate  and  the  Superfluous  Umbrella." 

"  Oh,  but  it  wasn't,"  cried  Sacharissa,  "  it  was 
something  beginning  with  a  ^." 

"  Curate  ?  "  suggested  the  Exotic,  with  mild 
determination.     In  spite  of  the  obvious  danger 

47 


48  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

the  Man  of  Truth  could  not  resist  giving 
utterance  to  his  conviction  that  '  curate '  did 
not  begin  with  a  k. 

"  And  there  was  nothing  about  an  umbrella," 
Sacharissa  persisted. 

"  It  isn't  really  an  umbrella,"  said  the  Ex- 
otic, in  a  soothing  tone,  "  it's  a  parasol." 

Sacharissa  looked  helplessly  at  the  Ambas- 
sador who  fully  lived  up  to  his  title.  "  I  am 
afraid,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  we  must  let 
him  have  his  way.  If  he  has  once  made  up 
his  mind,  there  is  no  shaking  him.  If  you 
cannot  move  him,  how  should  the  efforts  of 
the  rest  of  us  prevail  ?  "  The  true  diplomatist 
only  shows  as  much  of  his  hand  as  is  necessary. 
Sacharissa  submitted,  while  she  acknowledged 
the  compliment  with  a  little  puzzled  smile. 

"  I  will  relate,"  said  the  Exotic,  firmly,  "the 
Tale  of  the  Conscientious  Curate  and  the 
Superfluous  Umbrella.  The  incident  came 
under  my  notice  that  day  I  told  you  about 
when  we  went  to  Shepherd's   Bush." 

"  We  didn't,"  grumbled  the  Man  of  Truth. 

"  I  think  I  explained,"  continued  the  Exotic, 
placidly,  "  that  at  that    time   we  had  not   the 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  49 

pleasure  of  your  acquaintance."  The  Man  of 
Truth  protested  in  silence. 

"  Well,  I  missed  the  train  back." 

"  But  you  were  in  the  station,'*  objected 
Sacharissa,  on  whom  the  Shepherd's  Bush  ad- 
venture 'had  not  been  lost. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  he  admitted ;  "  but  I  went 
to  sleep  on  a  seat,  and  the  others  did  not  wake 
me." 

"  That  was  too  bad  of  them,"  she  said,  laugh- 
ing. 


50  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

The  Tale  of  the  Conscientious   Curate 
AND  THE  Superfluous   Umbrella 

The  Exotic  conceded  it  with  the  air  of  one 
who  has  forgiven  much,  and  began  his  narrative. 
"  I  was  alone  in  the  tiny  oasis  of  safety  that 
cheers  the  wayfarer  in  the  midst  of  the  all 
too  frequented  highroad,  awaiting  some  conven- 
ient vehicle  that  might  assist  my  return.  Sev- 
eral public  conveyances  had  indeed  passed, 
but  the  appearance  of  their  temporary  occu- 
pants was  so  entirely  unprepossessing  that  the 
contemplation  thereof  effectually  checked  any 
incipient  idea  I  might  have  entertained  of 
adding  myself  to  their  company.  Neverthe- 
less, feeling  a  wish  for  conversation,  I  had  ac- 
costed certain  omnibuses  that  were  going  in  the 
contrary  direction,  and  had  expressed  my  curi- 
osity as  to  their  ultimate  destination.  The 
replies  of  the  officials,  though  presenting  some 
trifling  varieties  of  diction,  were  however 
couched  in  a  strain  of  monotonous  discourtesy. 

"  I  fell  to  musino; :  the  red  sand  of  the 
Syrian  desert  unrolled  itself  before  my  inner 
vision,     stretching    into     dim     infinity.       The 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  51 

heated  air  quivered  as  it  rose,  distorting  the 
proportions  of  a  distant  camel  till  they  loomed 
grotesque,  gigantic.  It  advanced  slowly,  its 
master  suffering  his  careful  Bactrian  to  choose 
its  own  pace.  Not  without  reason,  as  I  was 
to  learn,  had  he  won  the  title  of  the  Con-" 

"  -scientious  Curate  ?  "  suggested  the  Ambas- 
sador with  an  assumption  of  naivete  as  he 
caught  the  narrator's  eye. 

"  But  the  dream  faded,"  pursued  the  Exotic, 
with  an  air  of  slight  reproach,  "  and  I  found 
myself  once  more  in  an  English  desert,  a 
desert  of  unlovely  buildings  and  yet  unlovelier 
inhabitants.  A  small  boy  interrupted  my 
reverie  by  some  remark,  doubtless  of  a  per- 
sonal nature,  and  I  meditated  despatching  him 
in  search  of  a  hansom  —  there  were  none  in 
sight.  But  perceiving  that  my  attention  had 
been  aroused  to  the  fact  of  his  existence,  he 
misjudged  my  motives  and  departed  with 
quite  unnecessary  suddenness.  You  can  per- 
haps judge  of  my  desolation  and  the  uncon- 
geniality  of  my  surroundings  when  I  confess 
that  for  an  instant  I  thought  of  getting  into 
a  tram  with  a  substantial  female  whose  baby 


52  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

had  been  eating  marmalade,  or  even  of  walk- 
ing back  to  the  station."  Here,  perhaps  by 
way  of  rivalling  the  Mime,  the  Exotic  stirred 
almost  sufficiently  to  endanger  the  equiHbrium 
of  his  tea-cup ;  which,  despite  the  anxious 
glances  of  Sacharissa,  he  had  persisted  in  balanc- 
ing on  his  left  knee. 

The  Ambassador  deftly  removed  the  cup, 
and  placed  it  on  the  table,  thereby  enabling 
Sacharissa  to  smile  whole-heartedly  with  the 
others. 

"  I  half  turned,"  continued  the  Exotic, 
pausing  for  a  moment  as  if  in  doubt  whether 
he  ought  not  to  suit  the  action  to  the  word. 
But  the  Mime  had  already  done  it  for  him, 
so  he  proceeded  contentedly. 

"  I  was  aware  that  there  stood  beside  me 
the  Conscientious  Curate  who  carried,  or  rather 
poked  out  before  him,  a  feminine  and  all  too 
palpably  superfluous  umbrella." 

"  What  sort  of  umbrella  ?  "  asked  Sacharissa, 
innocently. 

"  The  Superfluous  Umbrella,  of  course," 
the  Exotic  answered. 

"  Do  you  mean  the  parasol  ?  "  the  Man  of 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  53 

Truth  demanded.  The  Exotic  conceded  the 
point  almost  curtly. 

"  But  we  think  you  should  describe  it/' 
suggested  the  Ambassador  with  a  look  to 
Sacharissa.' 

"  Ohj  you  must,"  she  insisted ;  "  that  is,  if  it 
is  a  lady's  umbrella." 

The  Exotic  drew  breath.  "Its  handle,"  he 
began,  "  was  of  mother-of-pearl  that  Arab 
divers  rescue  from  the  jealous  waves  of  Bahrein, 
and  of  gold  for  which  red-shirted  sons  of  a  free 
race  wage  stubborn  war  with  nature  in  the 
gloomy  canons  of  California ;  the  silken  fabric 
had  been  woven  in  the  looms  of  Ning-Po ; 
chaste  white  lace,  worked  by  timid  novices  in 
the  quiet  convents  of  Ghent,  served  to  set  off 
its  delicate  rose-pink  hue,  soft  as  the  blush  of 
a  maiden  at  the  first  kiss  of  her  lover." 

At  this  point  the  Poet  was  observed  to  be 
feeling  for  his  pencil.  The  Exotic,  therefore, 
in  the  hope  that  it  was  about  to  be  immor- 
talised, repeated  his  last  sentence  again  slowly. 
But  apparently  the  Poet  had  no  such  inten- 
tion, for,  finding  himself  discovered,  he  gave 
up    the    search   with    a    face    that    unwillingly 


54         .   THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

rivalled  the  maiden.  The  Exotic,  a  trifle 
disappointed,  looked  to  Sacharissa  for  appro- 
bation. Apparently  she  was  satisfied  with  the 
description,  for  she  nodded  quickly.  He  went 
on  again. 

"  The  Curate  was  a  singularly  perfect  speci- 
men of  the  traditional  type  complicated  by  an 
anxious  expression,  as  his  eye  travelled  from 
the  Superfluous  Umbrella  to  any  passing  exam- 
ple of  the  district's  feminine  population.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  I  had  an  opportunity  of 
doing  a  good  action  by  assisting  his  perplexity. 
I  therefore  addressed  him.  '  I  perceive  that 
you  have  been  entrusted  with  my  sister's  um- 
brella, on  the  strength  of  which  inanimate 
introduction  may  I  claim  the  privilege  of  your 
acquaintance?'  'It  is  your  sister's,'  he  said, 
and  his  face  brightened.  '  What  a  provi- 
dential encounter!'  He  handed  it  to  me  at 
once.  '  I  have  been  looking  for  the  owner 
everywhere,'  he  added  wearily.  '  I  take  it,' 
I  said,  '  that  you  are  not  known  to  her  per- 
sonally ? '  " 

"  How  could  he  be  ?  "  broke  in  the  Man 
of  Truth,     "You  haven't  a  sister." 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  55 

"As  I  have  already  had  occasion  to  remark," 
returned  the  Exotic,  patiently,  "  this  story  be- 
longs to  a  period  antecedent  to  your  official 
existence." 

"The  sister  is  evidently  —  a  gold  bangle," 
suggested  the  Ambassador,  perceiving  that  the 
Man  of  Truth  was  about  to  express  himself 
more  fully. 

"  Please  go  on,"  said  Sacharissa.  The  Ex- 
otic smiled,  and  obeyed. 

"  He  said  he  had  not  been  so  fortunate ;  and 
indeed  he  scarcely  looked  as  if  he  knew  any- 
body's sister.  Also  he  murmured  something 
about  an  appointment  with  his  vicar.  In  fact, 
had  there  not  been  a  number  of  vehicles  in  the 
road,  I  beHeve  he  would  have  left  me  at  once. 
I  checked  him.  '  What  are  you  going  to  do 
with  the  umbrella  ? '  I  enquired.  '  I  thought 
you  said  it  was  your  sister's,'  he  protested. 
'  In  which  case  she  would  be  pleased  to  thank 
you  herself,'  I  said.  He  appeared  embarrassed, 
but  I  relieved  his  anxiety.  ^  As  it  happens, 
however,  it  is  not  my  sister's.  Yet  I  think  I 
can  describe  to  you  the  owner.'  His  face  ex- 
pressed a  shade  of  suspicion,  and  I  took  the 


56  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

Superfluous  Umbrella  and  turned  it  round.  Its 
daintiness  enkindled  me  to  clairvoyance.  '  She 
is  tall/  I  began,  '  and  slender  of  form,  sprightly, 
yet  graceful.  Her  eyes  smile  at  you,  and  her 
cheeks  dimple  as  the  light  fancies  of  girlhood 
flash  upon  her.  She  is  merriment  and  ten- 
derness in  one.  You  are  a  fortunate  man, 
reverend  sir.  She  will  illumine  your  country 
parsonage  with  her  sunny  radiance.  She  will 
cheer  your  sick,  and  bring  the  hardened  to 
dream  of  beauty,  raising  them  out  of  their 
sordid  lives  by  the  mere  presence  of  her  love- 
liness. She  will  hang  on  your  words,  and  in- 
spire you  in  your  work,  till  your  very  sermons 
are  .  .  .  that  is,  exceed  their  present  surpass- 
ing excellence.  Her  name  .  .  .'"the  Exotic 
paused  for  effect.  " '  Her  name  is  Sacharissa,' " 
he  continued,  seeing  that  his  audience  were  be- 
coming expectant. 

"  What  did  you  say  her  name  was  ?  "  de- 
manded the  Man  of  Truth,  with  honest  indig- 
nation. 

The  Exotic  ignored  the  existence  of  the 
interrupter.  "  The  Curate  had  been  getting 
a  little  restive,"  he  explained,  "and  when  I  had 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  57 

finished  my  portrait,  expressed  a  desire  for 
more  accurate  detail.  I  looked  at  him ;  he 
seemed  to  have  become  more  conscientious 
than  ever,  and  murmured  something  about 
taking  it  off  to  the  police-station." 

"  Why  didn't  he  take  it  back  where  he  found 
it  ?  "  asked  the  Man  of  Truth. 

"Where  did  he  find  it?''  put  in  the  Mime. 

"  Yes,  where  did  he  ?  "  repeated  the  Scribe, 
slily. 

The  Exotic  slightly  elevated  one  eyebrow, 
possibly  in  protest,  possibly  in  bewilderment. 

"  I  don't  think  we  ought  to  interrupt  the 
story,"  said  Sacharissa,  gently. 

"  But  he  hasn't  told,  .  .  ."  began  the  Man 
of  Truth.  The  Ambassador  passed  him  the 
cigarette-box  with  an  air  of  determination. 

"  If,"  said  the  Exotic,  in  a  tone  of  euphoni- 
ous injury,  "if  this  were  a  commonplace  tale 
of  the  imagination,  I  could  understand  a  de- 
mand for  plausible,  if  somewhat  mechanical, 
explanations.  In  actual  life  I  myself  once  res- 
cued an  old  gentleman's  hat  which  was  wafted 
against  my  feet  by  the  breeze  as  I  was  waiting 
for  an  opportunity  to  cross  the  road  without 


58  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

undignified  haste ;  but  he  has  not  died  and 
left  me  his  fortune.  And  a  yet  more  striking 
example  is  afforded  by  an  anecdote  that  was 
told  to  me  once  as  I  sojourned  at  a  caravanserai, 
whose  roof  had  in  earlier  days  sheltered  .  .  ." 
the  Ambassador  coughed  warningly.  "  I  will 
return,  however,  to  the  Curate's  proposition, 
that  he  should  leave  the  Superfluous  Umbrella 
at  the  nearest  police-station,  to  which  I  was 
compelled  to  object.  '  Leave,'  I  said,  '  leave 
this  in  an  atmosphere  tainted  by  evil,  in  a 
haunt  of  crime  and  vice,  this  delicate  trifie  to 
be  handled  by  the  unimaginative  detective  of 
reality,  whose  gross  materialism,  is  only  sur- 
passed by  his  brother  of  fiction  ! '  The  better 
to  bring  home  to  him  .the  enormity  of  his  sug- 
gestion I  unfolded  the  Superfluous  Umbrella 
before  his  unresponsive  gaze.  And  then  I  saw 
that  I  had  been  vouchsafed  a  small  but  en- 
tirely adequate  miracle."  The  Exotic  looked 
to  the  Mime  to  supply  the  appropriate  gesture, 
this  time  without  success.  His  effect  was 
marred,  and  with  a  touch  of  melancholy  he 
returned  to  his  narrative. 

"  The  Curate  was  still  unresponsive,  but  he 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL 


59 


was  concerned,  and  he  entered  upon  some 
further  and  still  more  unsatisfactory  suggestion 
as  to  the  disposal  of  the  Superfluous  Umbrella, 
but  I  cut  him  short. 

" '  Perhaps  after  all,'  I  said,  ^  it  would  be 
best  to  take  it  back  to  the  proper  owner/ 
The  obviousness  of  this  course  left  him  no 
alternative,  but  he  was  not  pacified  until  I  gave 
him  the  actual  name  and  address,  which  was  — 
which  was  that  of  a  lady  in  a  well-known  quar- 
ter of  the  town.  Even  then  I  beheve  he  would 
still  have  tried  to  desert  me,  but  I  pointed  out 
that  the  responsibility  of  restoration  lay  with  the 
finder,  a  point  which  his  conscience  grasped 
after  a  little  explanation.     So  we  went  there." 

"  But  how  could  you  have  known  .  .  .  ?  " 
began  the   Man  of  Truth. 

"  There  was  a  silver  band  lower  down  the 
handle  on  which  all  particulars  were  inscribed," 
said  the  Exotic.  "I  think  I  remarked  that  I 
had  opened  the  Superfluous  Umbrella."  His 
tone  suggested  that  the  Man  of  Truth's  lack 
of  perspicacity  was  becoming  wearisome.  But 
the  Man  of  Truth  was  not  quite  suppressed. 

"  How  did  you  go  ?  "  he  asked. 


6o  THE    COURT    OF    SACHARISSA 

"  We  went,"  the  Exotic  replied  in  a  decided 
manner. 

He  paused  so  long  that  Sacharissa  was  com- 
pelled to  ask  if  the  lady  was  in. 

"  She  was  not,  so  the  butler  assured  us," 
continued  the  Exotic,  thoughtfully,  "  but  her 
mother  was.  The  man,  however,  seemed  to 
want  information, — a  distressing  habit  of  people 
of  that  class,  —  and  the  Conscientious  Curate 
was  too  overcome  by  the  magnificence  of  the 
edifice  to  express  himself,  so  I  took  out  my 
card-case  and  looked  through  it.  You  see,  I 
thought  we  had  better  go  in  because  it  was 
about  tea-time.  Tea  makes  such  an  effective 
setting  for  a  story,"  he  observed  irrelevantly. 

"  You  had  got  as  far  as  the  card-case,"  mur- 
mured the  Ambassador. 

"  It  was  full  of  cards,"  pursued  the  Exotic ; 
"  quite  a  varied  assortment.  You  see  I  had 
started  out  to  pay  calls.  .  .  ." 

"  In  Shepherd's  Bush  ?  "  asked  the  Scribe. 

The  Exotic  waived  the  point.  "  And  just 
as  I  was  starting  I  discovered  that  I  had  used 
up  all  my  own  cards,  so  I  picked  up  a  handful 
from  the  card-basket,  because  it  is  absurd  to 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  6i 

pay  calls  without  cards.  And  so  I  had  plenty 
for  our  present  needs."  He  continued  rather 
hurriedly  because  he  saw  several  questions 
formulating  in  the  face  of  the  Man  of  Truth. 
"  I  picked  out  an  ordinary  Reverend  for  the 
Curate,  and  selected  a  Mr.  de  Something  for 
myself,  because  we  had  to  impress  the  butler, 
and  there  was  nobody  else  of  note  in  the  card- 
case  except  a  bishop  and  a  knight,  and  the 
Curate  did  not  wear  gaiters  and  knights  are  so 
terribly  common  and  suggest  useful  commodi- 
ties, and  I  was  afraid  it  might  lead  the  conver- 
sation round  to  jam  or  furniture."  He  paused 
to  take  breath,  but  he  had  tided  over  the 
awkward  interval  and  the  Man  of  Truth  was 
reduced  to  astonished  silence. 

He  smiled  reassuringly  at  Sacharissa  who 
seemed  inclined  to  protest,  and  continued : 
"  We  were  ushered  into  a  reception  room 
whose  magnificence  can  only  be  compared 
to  .  .  ."  no  parallel  suggested  itself  at  the 
moment  so  he  omitted  it  ...  "  and  found  our- 
selves in  the  presence  of  a  well-favoured  and 
generously  proportioned  lady  who  received  us 
with  some  slight  surprise.     The  Conscientious 


62  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

Curate  hung  back.  I  don't  think  he  had  quite 
caught  his  own  name,  and  I  saw  that  the 
necessity  of  opening  the  conversation  devolved 
on  me.  I  said  that  we  had  been  so  fortunate 
as  to  find  the  umbrella  of  her  sister  .  .   ." 

"Daughter,"  corrected  the  Man  of  Truth. 

The  Exotic  sighed  dispiritedly.  "  The  point 
was  so  painfully  apparent,"  he  murmured. 
"  She,  of  course,  set  me  right  as  to  the  rela- 
tionship, at  which  I  looked  my  astonishment." 
He  waved  his  hand  gently  in  the  direction  of 
the  Ambassador  to  indicate  the  sort  of  look 
he  meant.  "  We  sat  down,  and  she  gave  us 
tea  and  the  most  delicious  little  tea-cakes.  But 
I  gathered  that  she  rather  wanted  to  see  the 
umbrella.  I,  of  course,  looked  to  the  Curate  ; 
he  had  not  got  it.  'We  left  it  outside,'  I  had 
to  say,  and  indeed  we  had.  Yes,  it  was  lost," 
he  concluded,  with  one  eye  on  the  opening 
mouth  of  the  Man  of  Truth. 

"  O  dear,"  cried  Sacharissa,  "  how  ever  did 
you  manage  to  lose  it  again  ?  " 

"  It  might  have  been  the  Curate,"  said  the 
Exotic,  with  cryptic  lameness,  but  she  would 
not  let  him  off  this  time. 


A   MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  63 

"We  lost  it.  I  fear  that  is  all  that  can  be 
said.  Had  I  known,'*  he  continued  with  dig- 
nity, "  the  precise  manner  of  its  disappearance, 
it  would  naturally  not  have  disappeared.  And 
the  Curate  nearly  got  us  into  difficulties,  for  I 
believe  he  was  going  to  ask  me  if  I  had  not 
brought  it  in  with  me,  only  the  door  opened 
and  she  appeared." 

"  She  ?  "  repeated  Sacharissa,  interested. 
"  Your  Sacharissa  ?  " 

"  Not  mine,"  returned  the  Exotic,  pensively. 
"  The  Curate's,  I  think  ;  yes,  certainly  his." 

Sacharissa,  not  for  the  first  time,  began  to 
feel  that  she  was  getting  a  little  out  of  her 
depth.  But  seeing  the  Ambassador  bestow  an 
approving  smile  on  the  veracious  historian,  she 
attempted  a  look  of  sympathetic  comprehen- 
sion.    The  Scribe  was  amused. 

"  Her  mother  said  all  that  was  necessary," 
the  Exotic  continued,  "  but  the  Conscientious 
Curate  seemed  perturbed.  I  don't  think  he 
quite  liked  his  new  name ;  so  far  as  I  remem- 
ber it  was  not  very  stimulating,  but  then  you 
see  I  couldn't  make  him  a  bishop  without 
gaiters,    could    I  ?       He    would    have    had    to 


64  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

change,  and  then  we  should  have  been  late  for 
tea.  However,  before  he  could  interrupt,  I 
told  her  that  I  had  only  been  acting  as  guide, 
and  that  all  her  thanks  were  due  to  him.  She 
was  just  what  she  ought  to  have  been,  and  she 
thanked  him  for  all  his  trouble  until  he  ought 
to  have  become  quite  reconciled  to  his  name 
and  everything  else.  She  said  the  umbrella 
was  a  present  and  she  would  not  have  lost  it 
for  worlds.  In  fact,  she  had  advertised  for  it 
and  offered  a  reward.  The  Curate's  conver- 
sation was  rather  of  the  monosyllabic  and 
protesting  order ;  he  really  didn't  rise  to  the 
occasion  at  all  properly,"  —  there  was  a  note 
of  regret  in  the  Exotic's  voice, —  "but  in  the 
presence  of  Sacharissa  it  is  difficult  for  anyone 
to  do  himself  justice,"  he  admitted,  in  the  am- 
bassadorial tone.  The  Poet  nodded  his  head 
sagely. 

"  So  I  helped  him  out  again.  I  described  a 
sad  case  which  he  had  in  his  parish,  that  of  a 
poor  widow  whose  husband  had  been  killed  on 
the  railway  when  he  was  nobly  doing  his  duty 
in  the  signal-box  as  pointsman,  and  I  said  how 
she  herself  had  broken  her  arm  in  falling  over 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  65 

a  washtub,  and  could  not  do  her  work,  and 
was  now  starving  with  her  nine  children.  She 
became  so  interested  that  she  ran  and  fetched 
her  purse  and  gave  him  five  sovereigns,  three 
for  the  reward  and  two  for  the  poor  woman,  to 
whom  she  sent  a  lot  of  kind  messages.  And 
—  can  you  imagine  it  ?  —  he  actually  wanted 
to  be  conscientious,  though  there  must  have 
been  quite  a  number  of  cases  like  that  in  his 
parish.  I  know  a  millionnaire  who  gets  letters 
from  hundreds  of  people  much  worse  off 
every  morning."  The  Exotic  looked  round 
for  the  due  astonishment,  but  could  not  find  it. 
He  returned  to  his  tale  in  placid  surprise. 

"  So  I  saw  there  was  only  one  thing  to  do. 
I  pleaded  an  important  engagement,  bade  fare- 
well for  my  friend  and  myself,  and  took  his 
arm.  He  pocketed  the  sovereigns  mechani- 
cally," the  Exotic  laid  some  slight  stress  on 
this  point,  "  and  I  got  him  half-way  downstairs. 
But  she  followed.  '  I  must  see  my  parasol,* 
she  said  gaily.  Fortunately  the  door  was  already 
open.  '  My  friend  will  be  only  too  happy  to 
show  it  to  you,'  I  said,  leaving  him  and  step- 
ping  into    the    street.     There   was   a   hansom 


66  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

passing.  I  got  into  it  and  gave  the  driver  the 
address  of  another  man's  club.  And  now  may 
1  have  a  cigarette  ?  "  he  concluded  hurriedly. 

There  was  a  considerable  silence  after  the 
Exotic  had  finished  his  tale,  and  then  Sacharissa 
felt  that  he  needed  a  rebukfe.  "  Your  treatment 
of  the  poor  man/'  she  said,  "  was  disgraceful." 

The  Exotic  looked  at  her  in  innocent  won- 
der. "  Why,  I  helped  him  immensely,"  he 
asserted.  "  He  would  probably  be  carrying 
the  umbrella  about  now  if  it  had  not  been 
for  me." 

Sacharissa  looked  at  the  Exotic  severely. 
"You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,"  she 
said.  "It  is  a  perfect  catalogue  of  crime." 
She  enumerated  the  points  of  his  story.  "  You 
introduce  yourself  to  a  harmless  stranger  under 
false  pretences.  You  drag  him  off  to  the  house 
of  another  stranger,  and  take  him  into  it  under 
a  false  name.  You  make  him  tell  untruths 
and  accept  a  reward  for  a  thing  he  cannot  pro- 
duce, and  then  instead  of  trying  to  help  him 
out  of  the  difficulty  you  run  away,  leaving  him 
in  the  hall  to  explain."  She  stopped ;  words 
failed  her  before  such  a  revelation  of  iniquity. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  d-j 

The  Scribe  laughed,  while  the  Exotic  lay 
back  in  his  chair  with  the  pained  face  of  one 
who  is  misunderstood  by  an  unfeeling  world, 
murmuring,  "  I  got  him  five  pounds,  anyhow." 

"  Do  you  think  that  a  sufficient  compensa- 
tion for  the  loss  of  Sacharissa's  esteem  ?  "  asked 
the  Scribe. 

Sacharissa  gave  a  little  shudder.  "  I  don't 
like  to  think  of  the  poor  man  at  all,"  she  said. 

"  It  was  a  fine  dramatic  situation,"  observed 
the  Mime  with  relish.  "I  remember  once  when 
I  was  almost  in  the  same  sort  of  difficulty." 

The  Scribe  purposed  to  cut  short  the  in- 
tended narrative.  "  How  did  you  get  out  of 
\tV  he  asked. 

"  I  didn't,"  the  Mime  answered.  "  I  got  out 
of  the  window." 

The  Man  of  Truth's  laugh  aroused  Sacharissa, 
who  had  been  sitting  in  an  attitude  of  pretty 
perplexity.  She  looked  enquiringly  at  the 
Ambassador,  who  smiled  at  her  to  signify  that 
she  had  not  missed  anything. 

"  I  nearly  became  a  curate  once,"  said  the 
Scribe,  thinking  to  make  a  diversion.  Sacha- 
rissa glanced   at    him  with    interest.       "  There 


68  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

was  a  charming  old  rector  I  knew  who  badly- 
wanted  a  curate.  He  had  a  mile  of  splendid 
trout  fishing  on  his  glebe,  and  I  badly  wanted 
that,  so  I  thought  we  might  come  to  an  arrange- 
ment. But  it  takes  a  year  of  preliminaries  to 
become  a  curate,  and  he  could  not  wait,  so  I  am 
still  a  layman." 

Sacharissa  betrayed  her  disappointment  so 
visibly  that  the  Scribe  hastened  to  add  in  a 
consoling  tone  :  "  I  daresay  it's  just  as  well. 
I    should   not   have   made  a  good  curate." 

The  thought  did  not  appease  her.  "  That 
makes  it  all  the  worse,  I  think,"  she  said  re- 
provingly. 

The  Scribe  assumed  an  air  of  dejected  hu- 
mility and  addressed  the  Exotic  with  a  sad 
smile.  "  The  relation  of  our  sufferings  does  not 
even  meet  with  sympathy." 

Sacharissa  shook  her  head  at  them.  "  Fm 
sure  IVe  given  you  all  you  deserve,"  she  said. 
"  But  I've  still  a  little  left,"  she  laughed,  glanc- 
ing at  the  Ambassador. 

The  Man  of  Truth  took  upon  himself  to 
interpret.  "  That  means  it's  your  turn,"  he 
said   to  the  Ambassador  with  satisfaction. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  69 

The  Ambassador  relieved  Sacharissa's  slight 
confusion  by  answering  her  glance.  "  I  fear 
I  can  advance  no  claim,"  he  said.  "  My 
experiences  would  not  be  worthy  of  your  at- 
tention ;  in  fact,  I  think  I  have  had  none. 
But  experience  always  comes,"  he  added  with 
a  polite  and  expressive  bow.  Sacharissa's  gaze 
left  his  face  very  swiftly  and  concentrated  itself 
on  the  teapot. 

The  Poet  at  this  moment  discovered  a  ball 
of  paper  under  the  cushion  of  his  chair.  He 
smoothed  it  out  and  found  that  it  was  his 
poem.  "  1  wonder,"  he  began  doubtfully,  "  if 
you  would  care  to  have  it.  I  am  afraid  it  is 
rather  crumpled." 

Sacharissa  was  pleased.  "  Thank  you  so 
much,"  she  said.  "  I  should  indeed."  She  took 
it  and  read  it.  "  I  am  afraid  that  Sacharissa, 
if  that  is  her  name,  treated  you  very  badly,"  she 
pronounced  with  a  smile. 

The  Poet  became  confused.  "  Oh,  no,  she 
treated  me  very  well —  that  is,  she  hasn't  treated 
me  at  all  —  that  is,  I  mean  .  .  ." 

The  Ambassador  kept  an  eye  on  the  Man 
of  Truth    while    he    rescued    the    Poet.     "  A 


70  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

poet's  woes  are  also  his  pleasures,"  he  said, 
"  because  they  give  him  inspiration  ;  therefore 
I  don't  think  I  would  waste  too  much  of  your 
reserve  of  sympathy  on  him." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  smiled  Sacharissa  ;  "  but  any- 
how, I  am  sure  the  poem  is  much  too  good  for 
her." 

The  Poet  was  in  deep  water  at  once.  "  Oh," 
he  said  gratefully,  "  I  am  so  glad  you  think  so 
...  I  mean  nothing  could  be  too  good  for 
her  .   .   .   that  is,  I  should  say  .   .   ." 

"He  doesn't  know  what  he  means,"  said 
the  Man  of  Truth,  vaguely  realising  that  the 
Poet  was  in  difficulties  and  needed  help.  His 
effort  was  successful,  and  the  slight  awkward- 
ness passed  in  laughter.  He  glanced  at  the 
Ambassador  with  pride. 

That  gentleman  v/as  now  on  his  feet  deplor- 
ing the  necessity  for  instant  departure  if  the 
train  was  to  be  caught.  The  party  was  already 
moving  when  Sacharissa  detained  him  by  a 
slight  gesture. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  I  only  wanted  to  remind 
you  to  come  quite  early  next  week,  and  .  .  ."  she 
hesitated  a  moment ;  then  she  raised  her  eyes 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  71 

and  looked  full  at  him.  "  Who  is  Sacha- 
rissa  ?  " 

The  Ambassador  hesitated  too.  "  A  fancy 
of  one  of  my  friends  .  .  ."  he  began  and  paused, 
but  it  was  better  that  she  should  be  told.  "  I 
hope  you  will  be  able  to  forgive  us,  but  in  fact 
I  have  the  honour  of  addressing  Sacharissa  at 
this  moment." 

The  Man  of  Truth  who  happened  to  be 
looking  back  had  a  vision  of  the  Ambassador 
bowing  very  low,  and  of  Sacharissa  standing 
with  the  sunset  in  her  face. 

The  Ambassador  followed  the  others,  and 
as  he  reached  the  rosary  he  heard  a  light 
step  just  behind  him  and  a  voice  which  said, 
"  Please  thank  your  friend  for  the  pretty 
name." 

He  turned,  but  could  only  catch  a  glimpse 
of  drapery  vanishing  behind  the  roses,  and 
could  only  hear  a  low,  musical  laugh. 

He  came  up  with  the  others  at  the  bridge. 

"I  saw  her  blush,"  observed  the  Man  of 
Truth  when  he  reached  them. 

"  She  asked  who  Sacharissa  was,"  explained 
the  Ambassador. 


72  THE    COURT    OF    SACHARISSA 

"Did  you  tell  her?"  asked  the  Scribe. 

"  I   did,"   he  replied. 

"  Was  she  very  angry }  "  enquired  the  Poet, 
nervously. 

"  Not  very,  I  think,"  answered  the  Am- 
bassador. 


SCENE   III 


SCENE    III 

CHAPTER  IV 

Their  voices  were  audible  as  they  came  up 
the  path  toward  the  fountain.  One  voice, 
evidently  the  Man  of  Truth's,  said  loudly, 
"  He's  not  fit  to  be  trusted  with  a  ticket." 
Another  voice,  the  Ambassador's,  answered  in 
a  decided  tone :  "  No,  you  are  quite  right. 
He  shall  not  be  allowed  to  have  it  again." 
There  was  a  plaintive  murmur  from  the 
Exotic,  but  the  words  could  not  be  dis- 
tinguished. 

Sacharissa  came  along  the  alley  on  the  right 
of  the  fountain  holding  a  croquet  mallet  in 
her  hand.  She  greeted  them  smiling.  "  Has 
he  lost  his  ticket  ?  "  she  asked  with  a  glance 
at  the  Exotic,  who  appeared  to  be  somewhat 
bored  by  the  discussion. 

"  He  always  does,"  said  the  Man  of  Truth 
in  a  tone  of  deep  disgust. 

75 


76  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

"  I  threw  it  out  of  the  window,"  the  Exotic 
explained,  fixing  an  uneasy  eye  on  the  croquet 
mallet. 

"  Why  did  you  do  that  ?  "  she  questioned 
in  real  surprise. 

"  It  annoyed  me,"  he  said,  as  though  no 
more  explanation  were  necessary.  Sacharissa 
laughed  merrily  and  continued  her  cross- 
examination. 

"  How  did  it  annoy  you  ?  " 

"  It  was  faded,"  he  replied  wearily.  Sach- 
arissa did  not  seem  to  think  this  a  sufficient 
reason,  so  he  added,  "  Well,  the  man  punched 
it  all  crooked." 

"  Do  you  always  throw  your  ticket  away 
if  it  is  not  punched  straight  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  of  course  I  do,"  answered  the 
Exotic. 

"  Does  he  really  ?  "  she  appealed  to  the 
Ambassador. 

"  Not  quite  always,"  he  returned  with  a 
smile ;  "  he  generally  loses  it  before  he  has 
time." 

Perhaps  Sacharissa's  face  expressed  a  little 
surprise    that    the    Ambassador    should    allow 


A   MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  -j-j 

such  things,  for  he  explained  apologetically : 
"  I  have  always  had  a  lingering  hope  that 
some  day  he  would  reform.  However,  he 
shall  not  have  a  ticket  again." 

"I  wonder,"  she  began  thoughtfully,  "what 
will  happen  to  him  when  he  no  longer  has 
you  to  look  after  him,  when  you  marry  or 
something." 

"  I  can't  imagine,"  said  the  Ambassador, 
much  amused. 

The  Exotic  displayed  philosophy.  "  In 
that  case,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  hire  a  person 
to  buy  me  nice  bright-coloured  tickets  and 
to  see  that  they  are  punched  straight." 

He  stopped  speaking  and  looked  so  in- 
tensely bored  that  the  Ambassador  who  was 
watching  him,  glanced  round  to  discover  the 
reason.  It  proved  to  be  a  tall  stranger  with 
a  moustache  who  had  come  up  behind  Sach- 
arissa  in  time  to  catch  the  Exotic's  last 
sentence,  and  who  was  now  regarding  him 
with  the  precision  of  military  astonishment. 
The  stranger  too  was  holding  a  croquet 
mallet,  which  he  carried  at  the  trail. 

The  heels  of  the  Mime  came  together  with 


78  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

a  click  as  he  stood  to  what  the  front  rows  of 
the  pit  mistake  for  '  attention.'  The  Poet, 
who  in  the  quest  for  inspiration  had  been 
biting  the  end  of  his  pencil,  recollected  him- 
self, and  put  it  nervously  back  into  his 
pocket.  The  Scribe  considered  the  stranger's 
moustache,  while  the  Man  of  Truth  frankly 
estimated  his  shoulders. 

Sacharissa  murmured  something  of  which 
the  only  word  audible  was  '  Major,'  and  the 
Ambassador,  divining  intuitively  that  the  in- 
troduction was  complete,  stepped  forward  and 
offered  a  cordial  hand,  an  example  which  was 
followed  by  the  Scribe.  As  the  path  was  not 
very  wide,  the  others  contented  themselves 
with  bowing. 

"  I  hope  we  have  not  interrupted  a  game," 
said  the  Ambassador,  politely. 

"  Oh,  no,"  answered  Sacharissa,  "  we  had  not 
begun  yet." 

"  We  were  only  knocking  the  balls  about," 
said  the   Major. 

"  We  thought  you  might  like  to  play,"  said 
Sacharissa,  "  so  we  waited.  We  shall  just  be 
able  to  make  up  two  sets  if  you  all  play." 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  79 

The  Exotic  stifled  a  sigh  and  followed  the 
others  meekly  along  the  path  which  led  away 
from  the  fountain  to  the  right.  Sacharissa, 
who  acted  as  guide,  was  attended  by  the 
Major  and  the  Ambassador,  one  on  either 
hand.  Presently  they  passed  under  an  arch 
of  briar  roses  and  found  themselves  on  a 
rectangular  lawn  on  which  hoops  were  set. 
It  was  surrounded  by  yew  hedges  and  looked 
delightfully  smooth  and  cool. 

"  How  shall  we  divide  ? "  said  Sacharissa. 
She  surveyed  her  forces  with  a  general's  eye, 
but  found  that  chance  had  saved  her  the 
trouble  of  selection ;  the  Scribe  had  fol- 
lowed close  behind  the  Ambassador,  while 
the  others  had  lingered  a  little  and  were  only 
just  on  the  lawn.  She  turned  to  the  Man 
of  Truth  and  said :  "  Will  you  four  play  on 
this  lawn  then  ?  You  will  find  the  mallets 
and  things  in  that  box.  We  will  go  on  to 
the  other." 

The  Major  looked  satisfied  with  this  ar- 
rangement and  strode  on  by  Sacharissa's  side. 
In  the  left-hand  corner  was  another  trellised 
arch   containing  a  garden   seat  set  back   from 


8o  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

the  path,  and  so  cunningly  concealed  that  it 
could  not  be  seen  until  one  was  within  the 
archway.  They  passed  through  and  came 
upon  a  second  lawn  parallel  with  the  first,  and 
separated  from  it  by  a  low  hedge  of  yew. 

"  Shall  we  play  as  we  are  ? "  suggested  the 
Ambassador,  as  he  picked  up  the  mallet  with 
one  red  stripe. 

"  I  hope  you  are  a  good  player  then,"  said 
Sacharissa,  innocently  pointing  out  that  she  had 
the  other  red  mallet.  "  I've  only  played  the 
new  game  once  before."  The  Ambassador 
assured  her  that  he  would  do  his  best. 

"We  are  forestalled,"  said  the  Scribe  pleas- 
antly to  the  Major,  who  replied  by  looking 
disparagingly  at  his  own  mallet  with  its  two 
blue  rings. 

"  I  expect  you  play  a  strong  game,"  con- 
tinued the  Scribe,  as  he  picked  up  the  fourth 
mallet. 

"  Oh,  so  so,"  returned  the  Major,  striding 
over  to  fetch  his  ball. 

While  the  balls  were  being  collected  Sacha- 
rissa ran  back  to  the  archway  to  satisfy  herself 
that    the   others    lacked    nothing.       Here    she 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  8i 

encountered  the  Exotic,  who  was  regarding  the 
hidden  seat  with  an  appreciative  eye.  "  Have 
you  got  everything  you  want  here  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  More  than  sufficient,  thank  you,"  he 
answered,  with  great  politeness.  "  I  like  the 
balls,  they're  nice  and  bright." 

"They  are  a  new  set.  I've  only  just  got 
them,"  she  said,  after  which  she  came  back  to 
her  own  party.  "  Do  you  hunt  ?  "  she  heard 
the  Major  say  to  the  Ambassador  as  she 
approached  them. 

"  A  certain  amount,"  was  the  answer ;  "  but 
I  find  it  increasingly  difficult  to  spare  the 
time."  The  Major  looked  surprised ;  the 
idea  that  anyone  should  not  be  able  to  spare 
time  seemed  to  be  new  to  him. 

Sacharissa  reached  them  at  this  moment. 
"  Will  you  throw  a  penny  to  see  who  is  to 
begin  ? "  she  said  to  the  Ambassador.  He 
smiled  and  spun  a   coin  in  the   air. 

"  Heads,"  cried  the  Major.  "  Tails,"  cried 
the  Scribe  in  the  same  breath.  "  That  ought 
to  make  certain  of  it,  anyhow,"  he  added  with 
a  laugh. 


82  THE    COURT   OF    SACHARISSA 

"Throw  it  again,"  suggested  Sacharissa. 
The  Ambassador  did  so,  but  this  time  neither 
of  them  called. 

"  Major,  you  call,"  said  she,  perceiving  that 
the  Scribe  was  looking  towards  him.  With 
great  alacrity  he  obeyed  and  lost. 

"  We  ought,  to  have  made  sure  of  it,"  ob- 
served the  Scribe,  smiling. 

The  voice  of  the  Man  of  Truth  reached 
them  from  the  other  lawn.  "  It's  got  two 
tails,"  it  said  indignantly. 

The  Scribe  laughed.  "  That's  the  Exotic's 
Oriental  coin,"  he  explained.  "  He  always 
tries  to  get  people  to  toss  up  with  it ;  he  says 
it's  a  lucky  one." 

The  game  began.  The  Ambassador  ad- 
dressed himself  to  his  ball,  measuring  his 
distances  with  a  well-trained  eye.  He  accom- 
pHshed  his  two  first  hoops,  put  himself  in 
position  for  the  third,  and  regained  his  part- 
ner's side  without  unnecessary  delay.  She 
welcomed  him  back  with  an  approving  smile, 
and  called  his  attention  to  the  Scribe  who  was 
testing  the  balance  of  his  mallet  with  a  profes- 
sional air.     "  I'm  afraid  he's  going  to  be  too 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  83 

good  for  all  of  us,"  she  said,  a  little  apprehen- 
sive at  these  serious  preparations. 

"  I'm  so  sorry,"  he  returned,  looking  round. 
"  I  would  have  brought  my  own  mallet,  if  I'd 
known.  The  moral  effect  is  always  worth  at 
least  three  hoops,"  he  explained,  as  he  began 
to  play. 

"  He  does  not  possess  one,  to  my  know- 
ledge," the  Ambassador  assured  her. 

The  Scribe  made  the  second  hoop  with  pre- 
cision, and  on  his  third  stroke  captured  the 
Ambassador's  ball  with  a  long  shot  which 
elicited  Sacharissa's  unwilling  applause.  He 
bore  his  honours  modestly  and  pursued  the 
even  tenor  of  his  way.  After  the  fourth 
hoop  he  looked  round.  The  next  player  was 
Sacharissa,  and  she  was  becoming  impatient. 
It  seemed  a  pity  to  keep  her  waiting ;  he  con- 
scientiously wired  his  unwilling  ally,  and  placed 
himself  for  the  fifth  hoop.  After  this  he  re- 
joined the  others. 

"  I  thought  you  were  never  going  to 
stop,"  observed  Sacharissa,  as  she  turned  to 
her  ball. 

"  I  am  rebuked,"  said  the  Scribe  cheerfully 


84  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

to  the  Ambassador,  who,  however,  was  follow- 
ing his  partner. 

Sacharissa's  first  turn  displayed  more  of  grace 
than  of  accuracy.  She  looked  ruefully  at  her 
ball  as  it  bounded  back  from  the  wire  of  the 
second  hoop.  "  It  always  does  that,"  she 
complained,  with  a  little  moue  to  the  Ambas- 
sador who  stood  by  with  advice.  His  sympa- 
thetic reply  was  cut  short  by  a  warning  shout 
from  the  Major. 

"  Look  out !  Vm  coming  !  "  He  came.  A 
finely  executed  drive  sent  his  ball  through  the 
first  hoop,  over  the  opposite  boundary  and 
into  the  hedge,  where  he  spent  some  time  in 
hunting  for  it.  The  Scribe  shrugged  his 
shoulders  in  some  self-pity,  and  looked  around 
for  sympathy ;  but  the  Ambassador's  attention 
was  already  claimed,  or  given. 

The  voice  of  the  Mime  was  wafted  on  the 
breeze.     "It  is  my  ball,"  it  said  impatiently. 

"  I  expect  you  will  be  wanted  soon,"  said 
the  Scribe  to  the  Ambassador.  Sacharissa 
laughed.  The  matter  was  apparently  cleared 
up,  however,  without  the  need  of  intervention, 
for    the    Mime  was   next  heard  to  remark   in 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  85 

tones  of  surprise,  "  I  could  have  sworn  it  was 
my  ball,"  to  which  the  Exotic  replied  placidly, 
"  I  don't  mind ;  in  fact,  I  would  prefer  you  to 
hit  it." 

The  Major's  second  stroke  placed  him  on 
the  right  side  of  his  hoop  and  conveniently 
approximate  to  Sacharissa.  The  Scribe  made 
no  comment,  but  after  the  Ambassador  had 
played,  proceeded  in  leisurely  fashion  to  the 
peg.  Then  he  looked  round ;  the  Major  and 
Sacharissa  were  standing  by  their  hoop,  and  the 
Ambassador  was  at  hand  with  advice.  He 
glanced  at  the  easy  mark,  but  murmured  to 
himself,  "  It  would  be  rather  a  pity,"  and  hit 
at  random  across  the  lawn.  "  I've  finished," 
he  announced  incisively. 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  asked  Sacharissa,  after 
she  had  got  through  her  hoop  with  the  help  of 
the  Major's  ball. 

"You  had  better  come  to  me,"  advised  the 
Ambassador,  stooping  down  to  remove  an  in- 
considerable twig,  "  and  leave  him  behind." 
Sacharissa  accomplished  the  manoeuvre  success- 
fully. 

The  Major  applauded  her  play  and  walked 


86  THE    COURT   OF   SACHARISSA 

back  to  his  own  ball.  "  Here  I  am/'  cried  the 
Scribe,  intent  on  combination. 

The  Major  swung  his  mallet,  keeping  one 
eye  on  the  third  hoop.  "  Better  separate 
them,  hadn't  I  ?  "  he  called  back,  as  he  took 
aim  at  Sacharissa's  ball. 

"  Oh,  it's  gone  right  through  the  hedge,'* 
she  cried  in  consternation.  The  Major  looked 
at  the  hedge  as  though  wondering  what  it 
could  be  made  of.  "We  must  wait  while  you 
go  round  and  fetch  it,"  she  added,  and  he 
departed  on  his  errand. 

"  He  kicked  it,"  proclaimed  an  angry 
voice  on  the  next  lawn.  Sacharissa's  eyes 
sparkled. 

"  I  must  peep  at  them,"  she  said  to  the 
Ambassador,  and  she  ran  across  to  a  garden 
seat  set  against  the  dividing  hedge.  The 
Ambassador  handed  her  up  and  stepped  up 
himself,  and  they  watched  the  scene. 

The  Exotic  was  leaning  on  his  mallet, 
smiling  sweetly.  The  others  were  gesticulat- 
ing round  a  ball  near  the  peg.  "  I  saw  him 
do   it,"    said   the   Man   of  Truth. 

"  I'm  sure  he  didn't,"  protested  the  Mime. 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  87 

"  Didn't  you  kick  it  ?  "  The  Man  of  Truth 
appealed  to  the  Exotic  himself. 

"Yes,  I  kicked  it/'  he  answered  in  a  pleased 
tone.     "  Why  ?  " 

The  Poet  remonstrated*.     "  It  isn't  allowed." 

"  Ohj  isn't  it  ?  "  said  the  Exotic,  interested. 
"  I  didn't  know.  I  thought  in  this  game  one 
had  to  get  through  hoops." 

Sacharissa's  face  was  alight  with  merriment. 
"  They  are  perfectly  delightful,"  she  whispered 
to  the  Ambassador,  who  smiled  with  an  air  of 
proprietorship. 

"I've  found  it,"  said  the  voice  of  the  Major 
solemnly  behind  them. 

"  Oh,  then  we  can  go  on,"  said  Sacharissa. 
"  Whose  turn  is  it  ?  " 

"  Mine,  I  think,"  said  the  Ambassador, 
offering  his  hand  to  assist  her  down  from  the 
seat.  The  Major's  hand  was  also  extended, 
but  he  was  some  yards   away. 

The  game  proceeded  more  or  less  unevent- 
fully. The  Ambassador  played  correct  and 
unselfish  croquet,  never  permitting  himself  to 
get  separated  from  or  ahead  of  his  partner 
except  when   it  was   necessary  in   her  defence 


88  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

to  remove  the  Major's  ball.  Sacharissa  began 
to  think  that  she  was  quite  a  good  player. 

The  Scribe  did  not  interfere  much  until 
his  adversaries  were  approaching  the  first 
peg.  He  then  addressed  the  Major,  who  had 
followed  his  ball  to  the  far  corner  of  the 
lawn.     "  Get  into   position/'    he   called. 

"Position  for  what.^"  asked  the  Major. 
The  Scribe  indicated  the  second  hoop,  at 
which  his  partner  looked  askance. 

"  Come  to  me,  then,"  implored  the  Scribe. 
The  Major  looked  vaguely  round  the  lawn, 
but  his  glance  was  arrested  by  the  figures 
of  Sacharissa  and  the  Ambassador.  She  was 
listening,  possibly  to  instructions  on  future 
policy.  This  determined  him,  and  his  shot 
followed  the  direction  of  his  eyes. 

It  was  too  much  for  the  Scribe,  who  on  his 
next  turn  descended  and  scattered  the  group, 
a  piece  of  violence  which  provoked  a  remon- 
strance from  Sacharissa.  "  You've  left  me  all 
by  myself  What  am  I  to  do  ?  "  The  Am- 
bassador's reply  was  ready,  and  he  pointed 
out  with  more  success  than  the  Scribe  the 
advantages  of  combination. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  89 

"You  are  in  position,"  said  the  Scribe,  as 
the  Major  was  drawing  a  bead  on  Sacharissa's 
ball. 

"What  for?"  asked  the  Major,  looking  up 
in  surprise. 

"  That's  your  hoop ;  I  put  you  there,"  said 
the  Scribe,  wearily. 

"Oh,  is  it?  "  said  the  Major.  He  unbent 
so  far  as  to  put  his  ball  hard  through  the 
second  hoop.  But  immediately  afterwards  a 
more  ambitious  stroke  lost  him  in  the 
hedge. 

It  was  some  time  before  he  could  find  his 
ball,  and  Sacharissa  took  the  opportunity  to 
look  at  the  other  game  again  from  the  garden 
seat.  The  Exotic  was  about  to  play  under 
the  tuition  of  the  Mime  whose  ball  was  close 
to  a  hoop. 

"  Hit  it  very  gently,"  exhorted  the  teacher. 
The  Exotic  made  great  preparations  for  his 
stroke.  He  plucked  a  blade  of  grass  and  re- 
moved it  carefully ;  then  with  his  mallet  he 
patted  every  inch  of  the  two  feet  of  lawn  that 
lay  between  the  balls.  Then  he  played,  push- 
ing his  ball  along  cautiously  until  it  was  within 


90  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

a  foot  of  the  other,  after  which  he  allowed  it  to 
roll  unaided. 

"  That's  not  a  fair  stroke,"  said  the  Man 
of  Truth,  appealing  to  the  Poet  for  support ; 
but  the  Poet  was  watching  a  butterfly. 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  the  Mime,  en- 
couragingly. "  Now  put  them  both  through 
the  hoop."  But  the  Exotic  had  other  views. 
As  an  intelligent  spectator  of  the  Man  of 
Truth's  play  he  had  made  the  discovery  that 
the  genius  of  croquet  consists  not  only  in  get- 
ting through  hoops,  but  also  in  preventing 
others  from  so  doing.  Accordingly,  with  un- 
expected energy  he  croqueted  the  Mime  to 
the  further  corner,  and  then  came  back  to  his 
own  hoop  satisfied. 

The  Man  of  Truth  laughed,  and  the  Mime 
relieved  his  feelings  in  blank  verse. 

"  O  monstrous  treachery  !     Can  this  be  so, 
That  in  aUiance,  amity,  and  oaths 
There  should  be  found  such  false  dissembling  guile  ?  " 

So  saying  he  stalked  tragically  away. 

The  voice  of  the  Scribe  recalled  Sacharissa 
and    the     Ambassador    from    this    interesting 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  91 

scene.  "  If  you  are  ready,  we  are,"  it  said 
pointedly. 

The  game  continued.  The  others  pro- 
ceeded much  in  the  same  way,  but  the  Scribe 
made  no  further  attempt  to  interfere  with  their 
progress,  and  instead  removed  himself  to  a 
distant  corner,  where  he  employed  his  turns 
in  practising  difficult  strokes  at  a  hoop.  Mean- 
while he  watched  the  three  with  amusement. 

At  last,  however,  perceiving  that  they  were 
catching  him  up,  he  placed  himself  for  his  real 
hoop  in  the  middle  of  the  lawn.  Fortune  did 
not  favour  him  ;  he  was  nearly  in  a  direct  line 
between  the  Major  and  Sacharissa. 

"  I  took  some  trouble  to  get  into  that  posi- 
tion," he  said,  as  he  watched  his  ball  hurrying 
across  the  grass  after  the  shock. 

"  Extremely  sorry,"  said  the  Major.  "  I 
wasn't  aiming  at  it  at  all."  He  tried  consci- 
entiously to  repair  the  error  with  the  croquet, 
but  only  succeeded  in  delivering  the  Scribe's 
ball  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  remaining 
himself  in  the  embrace  of  an  opposing  hoop. 

"  Very  pretty,  if  it  had  been  the  other  way 
round,"  said  the  Scribe  with  malice. 


92  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

The  Major's  stroke  was  followed  by  a 
hubbub  on  the  next  lawn.  "  This  isn't 
Rugby  football,"  said  the  Man  of  Truth's 
voice  in  high-pitched  irony. 

"  Who  said  it  was  ?  "  retorted  the  Mime. 

"  Wellj  he  picked  it  up  and  carried  it,"  said 
the  Man  of  Truth,  descending  to  fact. 

"  I  didn't  notice  it,"  returned  the  Mime. 

"  I  did,"  put  in  the  Poet. 

For  some  moments  they  all  talked  at  once, 
and  then  the  Man  of  Truth  asked  sternly, 
"  Didn't  you  pick  it  up  and  carry  it  ?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  the  voice  of  the  Exotic 
amiably.     "  Isn't  that  allowed  either  ?  " 

The  dispute  died  away  and  the  Ambassador 
went  on  with  his  stroke,  putting  Sacharissa 
through  the  last  of  the  side  hoops  and  leaving 
his  ball  at  her  disposal. 

About  ten  minutes  later  the  Major  perceived, 
as  he  meditated  strategy  in  the  far  corner  of 
the  lawn,  that  the  game  had  reached  a  critical 
point.  The  Ambassador,  who  was  the  next 
player,  was  in  position  for  the  last  hoop,  while 
Sacharissa,  already  a  rover,  waited  for  him  close 
to  the  peg.    The  Scribe  had  pegged  himself  out 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  93 

as  a  kind  of  protest  two  turns  before,  and  the 
Major  was  alone  in  play,  but  no  longer  de- 
serted by  his  partner,  who  ironically  urged  him 
to  further  effort. 

While  he  was  preparing  for  a  last  display  the 
Man  of  Truth's  voice  echoed  across  the  hedge, 
"It's  his  turn  ;  where  is  he  ?  " 

The  Major  making  sure  of  his  distance  and 
direction  took  careful  aim  at  the  Ambassador's 
ball.  Loud  cries  of  "Exotic"  came  from  the 
other  lawn. 

"  I  thought  it  could  be  no  other  he,"  smiled 
Sacharissa  to  the  Ambassador. 

Encouraged  by  the  Scribe,  the  Major  bal- 
anced himself  carefully  on  extended  feet,  opened 
his  shoulders,  raised  his  mallet,  and  let  drive. 
The  ball  flew  across  the  ground,  struck  the 
Ambassador's  hoop,  glanced  off  it,  and  leaped 
violently  into  the  hedge  near  the  trellised  arch- 
way. 

"  Oh,  dear,"  cried  Sacharissa,  "  it  will  go 
right  through  into  the  river." 

As  she  spoke,  however,  there  arose  from  the 
arch  a  loud  cry  of  "  Allah,"  followed  by  great 
lamentations  in  an  unknown  tongue. 


94  THE    COURT   OF   SACHARISSA 

"  It    must    have   hit   the   Exotic,"   said    the 


Ambassador,  laughing. 

She  laughed  too,  but  grew  serious  the  mo- 
ment after.  "  I  do  hope  he  isn't  much  hurt," 
she  said.  "  You  really  oughtn't  to  hit  so 
hard,"  she  added  severely  to  the  Major;  "it's 
quite  dangerous."  The  Major  pulled  his 
moustache  with  his  left  hand  and  said  he  was 
extremely  sorry. 

"  Perhaps  we  had  better  go  and  see,"  sug- 
gested the  Ambassador. 

They  found  the  Exotic  sitting  on  the  garden 
seat  in  the  archway  nursing  his  ankle  in  one 
hand,  while  in  the  other  he  held  the  Major's 
ball,  which  he  addressed  reproachfully  in  the 
unknown  tongue.  The  Man  of  Truth  and 
the  Poet  appeared  at  the  other  side  of  the  arch 
at  the  same  moment. 

"  Oh,  there  he  is,"  said  the  Man  of 
Truth. 

"  He  has  an  unerring  instinct,"  the  Poet 
murmured,  looking  at  the  comfortable  seat 
with  admiration. 

The  Exotic  complained  that  he  had  been 
very  much    hurt  by  somebody's  croquet  ball. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  95 

"  Serves  you  right,"  said  the  Man  of  Truth, 
unsympathetically. 

The  Scribe,  anxious  to  preserve  the  balance 
of  justice,  informed  the  Exotic  that  the  ball 
belonged  to  the  Major.  "  He  was  knocking 
it  about,"  he  explained  in  parenthesis. 

"  What  were  you  doing  here  ? "  asked  the 
Ambassador,  feeling  that  it  was  a  little  hard  on 
the  Major.  "We  thought  you  were  on  the 
other  lawn." 

"  So  I  was,"  answered  the  mournful  Exotic ; 
"  but  I  got  tired  and  came  away  to  rest.  You 
see  I  thought  the  Man  of  Truth  was  going  on 
for  ever.  He  did  about  thirty  hoops  one  after 
the  other,  and  1  didn't  see  much  good  in  my 
staying.  I  had  just  made  myself  comfortable 
on  this  excellent  seat  when  a  small  earthquake 
came  and  hit  me  on  the  ankle." 

"  I  hope  it  is  not  very  bad,"  said  Sacharissa, 
anxiously. 

"  No,  it's  better  now,"  said  the  Exotic,  with- 
out thought.  He  hastened  to  repair  his  error. 
"  I  don't  think  I  could  play  any  more  croquet, 
though." 

"  You  shan't,"  Sacharissa  assured  him  kindly  ; 


96  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

"  you  shall  come  and  have  tea  and  be  waited 
upon." 

The  Major  took  the  opportunity  of  apolo- 
gising to  the  Exotic  as  the  party  strolled 
toward  the  arbour.  "  Don't  mention  it,"  said 
the  wounded  one.  "  It  is  fate.  It  was  doubt- 
less the  will  of  Heaven  that  I  should  play  no 
more  croquet ;  and  you  were  the  instrument 
of  its  manifestation." 

"  Do  you  hunt  P ''  asked  the  Major,  turning 
to  more  general  topics.  The  Exotic  appar- 
ently did  not  hear  the  question,  so  it  was 
repeated.  The  Exotic  looked  round  for  aid, 
but  the  Ambassador  was  on  in  front. 

"  Hunt  what  ^  "  he  said,  when  he  realised  that 
he  must  face  it.  The  Major's  eyebrows  went 
up,  but  he  explained  his  meaning  patiently. 

"  No,"  said  the  Exotic,  "  I  do  not  hunt  the 
fox.  The  fact  is,"  he  went  on,  in  a  burst  of 
confidence,  "  I  prefer  tigers."  As  the  Exotic 
had  intended,  the  Major's  brow  cleared.  A 
tiger  affords  quite  as  good  sport  as  a  fox. 

"  Been  in  India  much  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  tone 
of  interest. 

"Years  and  years,"  said  the  Exotic,  airily. 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  97 

hoping  that  the  Major  would  not  press  the 
point.  But  that  gentleman  was  on  a  congenial 
subject. 

"  I  suppose  you  shoot  from  elephants 
mostly/'  he  said. 

The  word  '  elephant '  gave  the  Exotic  a  lit- 
tle courage.  He  knew  at  least  what  an  ele- 
phant was,  and  he  confessed  that  that  was  the 
case. 

"  It's  not  so  risky  as  the  other  way/'  the 
Major  opined. 

The  spirit  of  contradiction  entered  into  the 
Exotic.  "  It  has  its  risks  though,"  he  said, 
taking  thought. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  found  yourself  in  a 
tight  place  now  and  then  ^ "  suggested  the 
Major. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Exotic,  ransacking  his  mem- 
ory. "  I  remember  one  occasion  on  which  I 
only  just  saved  myself  by  a  small  miracle." 


98  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

The  Exotic's  Adventure 

The  Major  invited  the  story  and  the  Exotic, 
nothing  loth,  began  to  narrate.  "  I  was  sitting 
on  my  elephant,  lost  in  meditation,  while  my 
steed  refreshed  itself  with  the  ripe  leaves  of  a 
banyan  tree,"  —  the  Major  looked  at  him 
quickly,  but  he  went  on  with  a  rapt  air, — 
"  when  I  was  startled  by  a  loud  howl,  and 
looking  round  I  saw  advancing  towards  me 
out  of  the  jungle  six  enormous  tigers." 

"  Six  ? "  repeated  the  Major,  as  though  he 
had  not  heard  plainly. 

"  Six  or  seven,"  said  the  Exotic.  "  I  could 
not  count  them  exactly,  they  jumped  about  so. 
Well,  the  biggest  of  them  began  to  climb  up 
my  elephant,  as  they  will.  A  curious  thing 
about  it  was,"  the  Exotic  continued  medita- 
tively, "  that  the  noble  beast  did  not  seem  to 
mind.  It  went  on  eating  the  tree  as  though 
nothing  was  happening.  I  wondered  at  the 
time,  I  remember,  why  it  did  not  kick.  Well, 
I  retreated  to  the  other  side,  and  when  the 
tiger's  head  came  over  the  edge  of  the  ele- 
phant I  pulled  the  trigger,  and  then  I   found 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  99 

that  I  had  forgotten  to  load  my  gun."  The 
Exotic  paused  to  take  more  thought.  The 
narrative  began  to  interest  him.  The  Major 
coughed  nervously. 

"  It  opened  its  mouth  horribly,"  the  story 
continued,  "  and  I  gave  myself  up  for  lost  as 
its  shoulders  gradually  appeared  behind  its 
head,  and  then,  fortunate  chance !  I  remem- 
bered that  I  had  a  box  of  wax  matches  with  me. 
Quick  as  thought  I  set  it  on  fire  and  threw  it 
down  the  yawning  chasm  of  the  tiger's  throat. 
That  saved  me.  The  ferocious  monster  climbed 
down  again  and  rolled  about  screaming,  and  I 
set  my  spurs  into  the  elephant  and  galloped 
away." 

The  Major  coughed  again,  but  made  no 
comment  on  the  story,  which  may  have  been 
due  to  the  fact  that  by  this  time  they  had 
reached  the  arbour  and  the  tea-table. 


SCENE   III 
CHAPTER   V 

"  I  don't  believe  you  are  a  bit  sorry  for 
him/'  flashed  Sacharissa  at  the  Scribe,  who 
seemed  to  be  rather  amused  at  her  ministrations 
to  the  Exotic,  and  who  had  just  enquired  ten- 
derly after  his  health. 

"  Surely  he  does  not  need  pity  —  now,"  sug- 
gested the  Ambassador  in  courtly  fashion. 
She  gave  him  a  little  glance,  understanding  and 
yet  defiant,  and  continued  to  press  good  things 
upon  the  object  of  contention.  The  Exotic 
accepted  another  cup  of  tea  with  the  air  of  one 
who  knows  that  he  is  not  long  for  this  world, 
but  who  has  forgiven  everybody  and  is  at 
peace. 

The  Major,  who  had  been  wrestling  with 
silence  for  some  time,  at  last  said,  "  I  wish  it 
had  been  me." 


loi  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

"  It  was/'  said  the  Man  of  Truth,  in  what 
was  meant  for  a  tone  of  consolation. 

"  I  mean,"  the  Major  became  more  lucid, 
"  I  wish  it  had  been  the  other  way  about  and 
his  ball  had  hit  me." 

"  Oh,  no,"  protested  the  Exotic,  with  the 
faded  smile  of  an  early  martyr,  "  if  anyone 
had  to  be  sacrificed,  I  would  not  have  had  it 
otherwise." 

The  Major  looked  dissatisfied ;  it  seemed 
that  his  point  had  been  missed,  but  Sacharissa 
understood  him.  "  Thank  you  for  the  com- 
pliment," she  said  sweetly,  and  his  brow  cleared. 

Presently,  when  she  perceived  that  the  Exotic 
was  sufficiently  recovered  to  light  a  cigarette, 
she  said,  "What  language  were  you  talking 
when  we  found  you,  and  what  were  you 
saying  ?  " 

"  I  was  repeating  a  few  words  of  Arabic  to 
myself,"  he  replied. 

"  What  about  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  The  graves  of  the  ancestors,"  he  returned 
darkly.  Sacharissa  looked  puzzled.  "  The 
croquet-ball's  ancestors,"  he  explained.  She 
shook  her  head  in  bewilderment. 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  103 

"  I  know/'  cried  the  Man  of  Truth ;  "  he  was 
swearing.     That's  the  way  they  do  it  out  there." 

"  I  wasn't,"  the  Exotic  protested.  "  I  was 
only  making  a  few  suggestions." 

"  It  is  swearing  all  the  same,"  said  the  Man 
of  Truth. 

"  I  ought  not  to  have  asked,"  said  Sacha- 
rissa,  discreetly. 

"It  was  quite  all  right,  really,"  said  the 
Exotic  with  some  earnestness.  "  I  was  quoting 
the  prehminary  invocation  to  his  Careful  Camel 
used  by  the  Considerate  Kurd  when  .  .  ."  The 
Exotic  checked  himself  on  meeting  the  Ambas- 
sador's eye  and  relapsed  into  dreamy  silence. 

The  Ambassador  led  the  conversation  away 
to  a  less  dangerous  field.  "  Croquet,"  he  said 
thoughtfully,  "appears  to  me  to  be  degenerat- 
ing into  a  game."  The  Major  uncrossed  his 
legs  and  looked  perplexed. 

"  Not  this  afternoon,  at  any  rate,"  murmured 
the  Scribe  to  the  Poet,  who  regarded  him  with- 
out comprehension. 

"It  should  be,"  continued  the  Ambassador, 
slowly,  "  a  sacrifice  on  the  altar  of  the  roman- 
tic past." 


I04  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

"Perhaps  it  isn't  much  of  a  game,"  admitted 
the  Major,  feeHng  that  he  was  expected  to  say 
something. 

"  It  is  the  minuet  of  games,"  observed  the 
Ambassador.  The  Man  of  Truth  opened  his 
mouth,  but  on  second  thoughts  pretended  that 
he  had  only  done  so  for  the  convenience  of 
his  cigarette.  The  Ambassador  went  on:  "In 
croquet  the  spirit  of  knightly  chivalry  should 
still  survive.  One  should  feel  that  one  has 
the  privilege  of  making  the  fortunes  of  a  part- 
ner one's  first  care." 

"Yes,"  assented  the  Scribe,  "it  is  surprising 
how  often  one  sees  his  partner  putting  a  man 
indignantly  through  his  hoop." 

"  I  hope  I  did  not  show  my  indignation  too 
plainly,"  said  Sacharissa,  slily,  to  the  Ambas- 
sador. "  I  think  I  helped  you  through  two 
hoops." 

"You  concealed  it  to  perfection,"  he  answered 
lightly. 

"  So  did  you,"  she  said,  thinking  of  other 
hoops  unmentioned. 

"  A  man's  indignation  rather  depends  on 
the  partner,"  commented  the   Scribe. 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  105 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  Ambassador,  looking 
at  the  lady.      Sacharissa  dropped  her  eyelashes. 

The  Major,  who  was  dissatisfied  with  his 
share  of  the  conversation,  turned  suddenly  upon 
the  Poet.     "  Do  you  hunt  ?  "  he  demanded. 

The  question,  however,  flew  innocuous  over 
the  Poet's  abstracted  head  and  reached  the 
Man  of  Truth,  who  answered,  "  No,  I  don't 
like  hunting."  The  unashamed  frankness  of 
this  confession  reduced  the  Major  to  wonder- 
ing silence. 

But  Sacharissa  came  to  the  rescue  of  his 
topic.  "  You  hunted  once,  didn't  you  ^  "  she 
said  wickedly  to  the  Mime. 

"  I  did,"  he  replied  in  a  sepulchral  tone, 
which  dashed  the  Major's  rising  hopes.  "  I 
have  only  once  been  in  greater  danger,"  he 
went  on,  and  it  became  obvious  that  he  meant 
to  relate  the  incident.  Perceiving  this,  the 
Ambassador  motioned  to  the  Poet  and  the 
Man  of  Truth  to  draw  back  their  chairs,  so  that 
there  might  be  a  clear  stage  for  the  narrator. 


io6  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

The  Mime*s  Tale 

"  Yes/'  said  the  Mime,  defiantly,  "  it  was  the 
most  awful  moment  of  my  life/'  He  ran  his 
hand  through  his  hair  and  gathered  himself 
together  for  swift  action.  Sacharissa  looked 
appealingly  at  the  Ambassador,  who  under- 
stood. Rising,  he  disposed  the  tea-tables  so 
that  they  made  a  stout  barrier  for  her  protec- 
tion, after  which  he  returned  to  his  seat  by  her 
side,  where  he  permitted  himself  a  cigarette 
and  was  rewarded  by  a  smile.  The  Major, 
who  was  at  her  other  side,  refused  the  box  and 
obtained  permission  to  light  a  cheroot,  at  which 
he  puffed,  contentedly  regarding  his  hostess. 
The  breeze  was  kinder  to  him  than  he  deserved, 
for  it  blew  the  fumes  away  from  Sacharissa,  and 
they  merely  inconvenienced  the  Poet. 

Meanwhile,  the  Exotic  had  raised  a  protest 
against  the  Mime's  too  liberal  use  of  dramatic 
force.  "  Please  remember,"  he  pleaded,  "  it's 
really  very  warm,  and  if  you  move  about  so, 
it  will  hurt  my  ankle." 

The  Mime  called  heaven  and  earth  to  wit- 
ness with  a  sweep  of  his  arm.     "  You  deserve 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  107 

to  have  it  hurt,"  he  retorted.  "  Why,  it  was  all 
your  fault  from  first  to  last.' 

The  Exotic's  look  of  guileless  surprise  could 
not  have  been  surpassed  even  by  the  prospec- 
tive narrator,  but  he  was  betrayed  by  the  Scribe, 
who  suggested,  "  I  suppose  you  offered  to  come 
and  help  him  out,  didn't  you  ?  " 

Sacharissa  was  amused ;  she  remembered  the 
various  occasions  on  which  the  Exotic  had 
given  his  friendly  assistance  to  those  in  need. 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  how  it  was,  and  then 
you'll  know  why  he  deserves  to  be  hurt," 
said  the  Mime.  He  paused  a  moment  to 
get  into  his  proper  vein,  and  then  began  with 
enthusiasm  :  "  She  was  superb,  a  very  empress 
of  her  sex,  and  I  loved  her  to  distraction.  But 
I  had  a  rival,  a  dangerous  rival  —  her  cousin. 
He  was  a  Cambridge  man ! "  The  Mime 
threw  a  whole  act  of  scorn  into  the  words. 
The  Ambassador  looked  hurriedly  at  the  Man 
of  Truth,  who  laboured  under  the  same  disa- 
bility as  the  cousin  in  the  story  and  had  not 
yet  had  time  to  forget  it,  but  fortunately  his 
attention  was  diverted.  He  was  watching  the 
Exotic  who,  with  an  air   of  patient  suffering. 


io8  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

waited  the  time  when  it  should  please  a  wasp 
to  fly  off  the  edge  of  the  teacup  balanced  on 
his  knee. 

The  Mime  went  on.  "  It  was  Christmas, 
and  \ve  were  staying  near  her  in  the  country  ; 
so  was  the  cousin.  I  hate  cousins  —  that  is, 
other  people's  male  cousins,"  he  corrected  him- 
self. "  Many  times  have  I  loved,  devotedly, 
desperately,"  his  voice  grew  tremulous,  "  but 
there  is  always  a  cousin  !  " 

"Who  begins,"  put  in  the  Scribe,  sardoni- 
cally, "  by  behaving  to  her  like  a  brother,  and 
ends  insidiously  as  a  husband." 

The  Mime  nodded.  "  The  girl  who  has 
cousins  is  doomed.  And  I  had  a  fatal  presen- 
timent. The  cousin  used  to  take  her  to  thea- 
tres, to  walk  with  her  on  the  promenade  and 
along  the  cliff,  while  for  me  the  August  sun 
had  no  warmth,  no  brightness."  His  voice 
grew  hollow,  and  he  paused  dramatically. 

The  Major  gazed  at  him  in  unfeigned  amaze- 
ment, and  Sacharissa  looked  puzzled.  The 
Man  of  Truth,  however,  stepped  in  briskly. 

"  You  said  it  was  Christmas  in  the  country," 
he  objected. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  109 

"This,"  remarked  the  Scribe,  "is  not  a 
commonplace  tale  of  the  imagination,  there- 
fore you  must  not  ask  for  an  explanation  of 
apparent  inconsistencies.'*  He  looked  to  see 
if  his  shaft  had  struck  the  Exotic,  but  that 
blameless  person  was  affectionately  regarding 
his  wasp,  which,  after  an  elaborate  toilet,  had 
just  flown  off  to  annoy  the  Poet. 

"  Oh,  that  was  something  quite  different  .  .  . 
I  mean  it  had  happened  long  before,''  the  Mime 
corrected  himself  rather  lamely,  "  but  the  crisis 
was  now  at  hand.  I  felt  that  I  must  de- 
feat that  cousin  at  all  risks.  So  I  took 
counsel.  First  I  asked  him,"  the  Mime  glared 
at  the  Ambassador,  "  and  he  suggested  appeal- 
ing to  her  intelligence  by  lofty  converse  and 
trying  to  excel  in  physical  exercises,  or  some- 
thing like  that."  Sacharissa  stole  an  amused 
glance  at  the  giver  of  advice,  but  his  face  dis- 
played only  polite  and  impersonal  interest. 
"  But  the  only  thing  to  excel  in  was  skating, 
and  my  skating  is  like  .  .  ."  the  Mime  hesi- 
tated for  a  comparison. 

"  Yes,  you  do  cut  rather  original  figures,"  put 
in  the  Ambassador,  which  showed  that  the  Mime 


no  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

had  not  failed  to  touch  him.  The  description 
was  satisfactory,  however,  and  the  story  contin- 
ued. "  The  cousin,  of  course,  could  take  her 
about  in  sleighs  and  things,  while  1  had  to  sit  on 
the  bank  and  watch  from  afar.  Then  I  made 
a  fatal  mistake.  I  consulted  the  Exotic,  who 
said  he  would  help  me  out."  The  Mime 
shook  his  head  sadly.  "  He  recommended 
me  to  take  up  palmistry.  He  said  it  was  an 
easy  and  pleasant  form  of  science  in  which  you 
sat  in  a  retired  corner  holding  a  lady's  hand 
and  described  to  her  the  sort  of  man  she  would 
marry.  He  said  the  real  art  came  in  giving  a 
faithful  description  of  yourself,  but  in  a  jerky 
way,  reading  it  out  in  little  bits,  as  if  you  didn't 
know  it  was  yourself  at  all,  though  of  course 
she  could  see  who  it  was  all  along.  He  said 
in  all  his  experience  he  had  never  known  it 
fail." 

At  this  point  the  Exotic,  who  had  lost  in- 
terest in  his  wasp,  looked  up  innocently,  to 
find  Sacharissa  regarding  him  with  suspicion. 
He  smiled  reassuringly ;  also  he  began  to 
attend. 

"  Well,  I  was   fool   enough   to   try  it,"   the 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  iii 

Mime  grew  melancholy,  "  and  the.  cousin  over- 
heard. He  came  up  at  once  and  began  to  ask 
me  a  lot  of  leading  questions  about  mounts  and 
lines,  which  I  could  not  answer.  The  Exotic 
never  even  tried  to  help  me  ;  he  simply  stroked  a 
cat  and  looked  sleepy.  Then  that  cousin,  in  her 
presence,  took  my  hand  and  began  to  tell  my 
character  —  mine  I  He  said  I  was  fickle  and 
inconstant ;  he  prophesied  that  my  first  wife 
would  die  within  a  year  of  a  broken  heart. 
What  could  I  do  ?  I  denied  it,  of  course,  and 
appealed  to  that,"  he  pointed  contemptuously 
to  the  Exotic,  "  who  said  that  he  himself  knew 
nothing  about  these  things,  and  would  not 
venture  on  an  opinion,  which  meant  to  say 
that  you  hadn't  heard  a  word  and  were  too  lazy 
to  come  out  of  your  chair." 

"  There  was  the  cat  to  consider,"  murmured 
the  accused  one. 

"  I  suppose  the  cousin  really  was  something 
of  a  palmist  ?  "  the  Scribe  hazarded. 

"  He  knew  what  he  was  talking  about  then, 
anyhow,"  said  the  Man  of  Truth. 

"  Worse  was  to  come,"  groaned  the  Mime, 
who  in  preparing  for  this  dramatic  utterance 


112  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

had  not  listened  to  the  interruptions;  "worse, 
the  worst.      I  consulted  the  Exotic  again.'* 

"That  was  unwise,  surely!"  suggested  the 
Ambassador. 

"  Well,  this  time,"  continued  the  Mime,  "  he 
made  a  suggestion  which  really  seemed  sensible. 
He  thought  I  might  get  up  some  theatricals 
in  which  she  and  I  could  act  together.  He 
said  he  would  help,  he  would  sit  in  a  chair  and 
prompt —  he  called  that  taking  a  part  in  the 
play."  The  Mime  was  scornful.  "Well,  I  went 
over  to  suggest  it,  and  she  was  delighted.  There 
was  to  be  a  charity  entertainment  and  a  tem- 
perance lecture,  and  it  was  agreed  that  some 
really  good  acting  would  be  a  draw.  I  was 
about  to  suggest  a  dualogue  with  her,  when  the 
cousin  came  in.  Of  course  she  told  him  all 
about  the  plan,  and  he  didn't  seem  to  under- 
stand that  it  was  my  idea,  though  he  admitted 
that  it  was  a  good  one.  He  said  at  once 
that  he  and  she  could  do  ^  The  Loving  Couple,' 
one  of  those  silly,  sentimental  things  in  which 
two  honeymooners  quarrel  and  make  it  up 
again  —  it  seemed  that  they  had  done  it  before 
—  atrociously  bad  taste,"  growled  the  Mime. 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  113 

"  You  wanted  to  do  a  dualogue  yourself," 
remarked  the  Man  of  Truth. 

"  Well,  we  explained  to  him  that  this  would 
not  do,  and  then  we  discussed  the  matter.  We 
talked  over  lots  of  pieces  ;  we  were  sure  of  get- 
ting others  to  join,  but  he  was  an  impracticable 
person  to  deal  with.  He  always  seemed  to  think 
there  need  only  be  two  principal  parts.  He  had 
absolutely  no  idea  about  stage  requirements." 

"  Amateur  stage  requirements,"  corrected 
the  Scribe.  Sacharissa,  who  was  beginning  to 
sympathise  with  the  Mime, —  his  tone  sug- 
gested infinite  depths  of  injury,  —  looked  to 
the  Ambassador  to  intervene.  But  the  Am- 
bassador knew  the  teller  of  the  tale  who  pro- 
ceeded, happily  self-absorbed.  "  Then  there 
was  more  trouble.  The  people  who  were 
managing  the  entertainment  insisted  on  having 
two  acts,  one  before  and  one  after  the  temper- 
ance address,  which  made  the  choice  of  a  play 
more  difficult.  The  vandals  thought  a  play 
could  be  split  up  into  bits  like  a  serial  story  !  " 
The  Mime's  voice  trembled  as  he  pursued  this 
by-path  of  indignation.  "  So  the  Exotic  said 
he  would   help  us  out.     He  offered  to  let  us 


114  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

act  a  play  of  his  ov/n."  The  Exotic  exhibited 
some  shght  symptoms  of  protest. 

"You  did,"  said  the  Mime,  savagely.  "You 
wanted  us  to  act  the  Considerate  Kurd.  I 
v/as  to  be  the  Kurd,  she  the  Unscrupulous 
Circassian,  and  himself  the  Placid  Pasha." 

"  It  would  have  done  beautifully."  The  Ex- 
otic shook  his  head  in  regretful  self-defence  and 
appealed  to  the  company  generally.  "And 
they  were  none  of  them  grateful.  She  didn't 
like  being  the  Unscrupulous  Circassian  at  all, 
and  as  for  the  cousin,  I  thought  he  was  going 
to  hit  me." 

"  Why,  what  part  did  you  give  him  ?  "  asked 
the  Scribe. 

"  I  had  arranged  for  him,"  answered  the 
Exotic,  "  the  part  of  the  Careful  Camel.  It 
would  have  suited  him  to  perfection,  and  it 
would  have  suited  the  temperance  lecture  too, 
because  the  Camel  does  wonderful  feats  of 
endurance  on  buckets  of  water,  which  it  drinks 
on  the  stage."  This  point  had  an  unexpected 
effect  on  the  Major,  and  the  Exotic,  having 
vindicated  himself,  looked  at  him  with  peaceful 
approval. 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  115 

"  It  would  have  made  us  a  laughing-stock/' 
pursued  the  Mime,  wrathfully.  "However, 
at  last  we  arranged  it  all,  and  the  cousin  and  I 
wrote  the  book.  We  called  it  '  A  Duel  to  the 
Death.'  In  the  first  act  two  friends  rescue  a 
woman  from  robbers  and  both  love  her  to  dis- 
traction. In  the  second  neither  will  give  way, 
so  they  fight  till  one  is  killed  and  she  marries 
the  victor." 

"Good  simple  play,''  commented  the  Scribe. 

The  Mime  went  on,  unnoticing.  "  The 
cousin  wanted  the  scene  laid  in  Roman  times, 
—  he  was  one  of  those  muscular  people  who 
hft  weights  and  feel  their  upper  arms,  —  but  I 
would  not  have  that,  so  we  finally  decided  that 
it  should  be  in  the  eighteenth  century  with 
rapiers  and  knee  breeches."  The  Mime  re- 
garded his  calves  complacently.  "  We  got  the 
first  act  arranged  all  right,  but  we  had  difficulty 
with  the  second.  The  cousin  actually  ex- 
pected me  to  be  killed  in  the  duel.  That  was 
quite  impossible,  and  I  appealed  to  her.  But 
she  said  she  would  leave  it  to  us  to  decide. 
We  had  got  our  costumes  and  everything,  and 
I  had  been  taking  fencing  lessons    so  that    I 


ii6  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

could  kill  him  to  perfection  —  thus  !  "  The 
Mime  leaped  from  his  seat  and  lunged  with 
an  imaginary  rapier  at  the  Major,  who  having 
been  under  fire  regarded  him  with  unmoved 
astonishment. 

"  We  have  not,  I  think,  yet  come  to  the 
duel,"  suggested  the  Ambassador. 

The  Mime  sat  down  again  and  went  on 
quickly :  "  We  discussed  and  discussed,  but 
to  no  purpose,  though  I  had  written  the  end 
as  it  should  have  been.  It  was  very  moving 
and  tender,"  he  lingered  over  the  thought  of 
it ;  "  but  the  cousin  had  the  meanness  to  copy 
it  out  for  himself,  and  one  day  when  I  called 
with  the  Exotic  I  found  him  rehearsing  it  with 
her.  It  was  too  much.  Ah !  if  I  had  not 
weakly  yielded  then  because  the  Exotic  said  he 
would  help  us  out  quite  to  our  satisfaction." 

Sacharissa's  eyes  flashed ;  she  was  all  antici- 
pation. 

"  He,"  continued  the  Mime,  "  said  we 
ought  to  fight  the  duel  as  we  originally  settled, 
until  one  of  us  received  a  mortal  thrust.  Then 
whichever  of  us  was  beaten  was  to  fall  down 
and  die,  and  whichever  of  us  was  victor  was  to 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  117 

finish  the  play.  So  it  was  settled  and  we  both 
practised  and  both  rehearsed  with  her.  Never 
was  so  dramatic  an  idea.  It  would  have  made 
the  fortune  of  any  play,  but  —  that  cousin  !  " 
The  Mime  mopped  his  brow.  "  The  night 
came.  We  were  not  quite  word-perfect  in  the 
first  act,  and  the  Exotic  of  course  fell  asleep  in 
the  prompter's  chair.  But  he  explained  after- 
wards that  it  did  not  matter  because  the  tem- 
perance lecturer  was  not  word-perfect  either, 
and  after  all  it  was  the  second  act  which  would 
make  the  play.  The  address  was  over,  the 
stage  was  cleared,  and  we  were  ready  for  the 
fight.  She  was  to  come  on  as  soon  as  it  was 
done.  Ha!"  The  Mime  was  up  in  earnest 
now,  and  the  Ambassador  had  only  just  time 
to  consolidate  Sacharissa's  rampart  when  he 
stamped  defiantly  at  the  salute. 

"  Our  swords  clicked ;  we  began.  As  they 
ran  along  each  other  an  awful  thing  happened ; 
the  button  of  his  weapon  fell  off.  Horror!  I 
had  to  fight  with  a  foil  against  a  rapier ;  love, 
life,  and  the  play  itself  were  at  stake.  But  I 
faltered  not,  for  at  the  first  pass  I  knew  myself 
his  master.     So  —  so  —  we  went,  and  I  touched 


ii8  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

him  lightly  on  the  wrist.  Had  my  point  too 
been  bare  he  would  have  fenced  no  more ;  but 
he  went  on.  Then  I  made  a  pass,  thus,  and 
was  in  on  his  breast,  a  thrust  that  would  have 
slain  him.  And  then  I  learned  my  danger ; 
he  went  on  —  he  smiled  and  I  knew  that  he 
too  knew.  If  I  ran  I  was  disgraced,  and  the 
play  was  ruined.  If  I  fought  on,  he  would  not 
yield  though  I  slew  him  a  dozen  times,  while 
his  first  home  thrust  would  be  my  end.  No, 
I  must  save  the  play.  I  made  as  if  I  were  hit, 
and  fell  back  on  the  boards.  She  came  on. 
Even  as  I  lay  I  could  watch  and  listen ;  their 
acting  v/as  superb.  His  voice  was  choked  with 
emotion ;  it  was  great.  The  curtain  fell,  all  was 
over.  I  rose  to  reproach  him,  but  he  was 
gone.  I  hunted  for  her,  but  she  could  not  be 
found.  Only  the  Exotic  could  I  meet,  and  he 
was  occupied  in  pressing  wine  upon  the  temper- 
ance lecturer,  and  when  I  told  him  of  what  had 
happened,  he  seemed  to  think  it  was  a  joke. 
And  before  I  found  them  the  cousin  had  been 
accepted."  The  Mime  crept  back  to  his  chair 
like  an  old  broken  man.  One  thought,  how- 
ever,   seemed    to    comfort    him.     He    added. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  119 

"And  in  the  cold  grey  dawn  I  roused  the 
Exotic  and  took  him  back  to  London  by  train 
without  any  breakfast."  The  Exotic  shud- 
dered, he  remembered  the   incident. 

Sacharissa  laughed  at  this  conclusion  to  the 
story,  and  its  evident  effect  on  the  Exotic. 
"  It  served  you  quite  right,"  she  said  to  him. 
The  Exotic's  pained  expression  showed  that  he 
failed  to  see  the  justice  of  so  excessive  a  pun- 
ishment, but  he  said  nothing. 

"  You  ought  to  have  stopped  the  play  when 
you  saw  the  cousin  was  cheating,"  said  the 
Man  of  Truth,  pondering  how  he  would  have 
acted  himself  in  similar  circumstances. 

"  He  wrote  it  himself,"  reproved  the  Scribe. 
"  You  expect  too  much." 

"  I  don't  think  she  can  have  loved  you," 
the  Poet  said  dreamily,  after  consideration. 

The  Major  had  been  thinking  the  matter 
out.  "  If  you  were  really  the  better  swords- 
man," he  began,  "  you  ought  to  have  disarmed 
him." 

"  It  wasn't  provided  for  in  the  play,"  said 
the  Mime,  gloomily  ;  "  and  if  I  had,  he  would 
probably  have  gone  on  with  his  fists.    He  meant 


I20  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

to  win.  But  it  was  a  fine  situation/'  he  con- 
cluded, with  melancholy  satisfaction. 

The  Major  broke  the  silence  which  had  fol- 
lowed on  the  Mime's  tale,  by  turning  hopefully 
to  the  Scribe.     "  Do  you  hunt  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  Scribe  shook  his  head,  informing  the 
Major  that  his  branch  of  sport  was  fishing. 

Sacharissa  heard  his  answer.  "  Oil,  you've 
never  caught  me  those  trout,"  she  said. 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  had  almost  for- 
gotten the  trout,"  the  Scribe  answered  with  a 
smile. 

"  Oh,  well,  now  I  remind  you  of  them,  you 
must  bring  your  rod  and  catch  them,"  ordained 
Sacharissa.  "  Please  see  that  he  does ;  he  has 
such  a  bad  memory."  She  turned  to  the  Am- 
bassador. The  Exotic  murmured  something 
to  himself. 

"  I  was  thinking  how  nice  it  would  be  to  sit 
and  watch  him  while  we  were  having  tea,"  he 
said,  on  being  pressed  to  repeat  himself 

"  I  don't  think  you  must  be  allowed  to  do 
that,"  said  Sacharissa,  shaking  her  head.  "  I 
think  you  must  bring  a  rod,  too,  and  catch 
trout  as  well." 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  121 

"  Perhaps  we  might  be  allowed  to  have  tea 
v/hile  he  catches  trout?"  suggested  the  Scribe. 
The  Exotic's  face  became  solemn. 

Sacharissa  laughed.  "No, you  shan't  escape," 
she  insisted.  An  idea  struck  her.  "  I  think 
you  ought  all  to  fish.  Oh,  yes,  you  must," 
she  cried  ;  "  it  will  be  great  fun.  We  will  have 
a  match  and  see  who  can  bring  back  the  most 
trout." 

"  With  a  prize,  to  be  given  by  the  Queen  of 
Beauty  ? "  suggested  the  Ambassador,  smiling. 

"  I  will  give  a  prize,"  she  laughed,  with  a 
Httle  blush.  "  You  must  go  in  for  it,  too," 
she  said  to  the  Major,  who  was  regarding  the 
Ambassador  with  disapproval.  "  What  shall 
the  prize  be  ?  "  She  looked  round  for  sugges- 
tions. 

"  As  is  set  down  in  the  Tale  of  the  Consid- 
erate Kurd  the  Princess  herself  .  .  ."  began  the 
Exotic  all  in  a  breath,  but  the  Ambassador's 
eye  was  upon  him  and  he  stopped  abruptly. 

"  Strawberries  would  make  a  good  prize," 
said  the  Man  of  Truth,  taxing  his  imagination. 

"  Or  cabbages,"  said  the  Scribe,  without 
taxing  his. 


122  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

The  Poet  had  not  yet  spoken,  but  now  he 
extracted  his  notebook  and  felt  for  his  pencil. 
"  The  prize,"  he  murmured,  "  ought  to  be  an 
emblem  of  its  giver,  a  rose,  white,  with  a  soft 
crimson  blush." 

Sacharissa  blushed  again,  but  did  not  seem 
displeased.  "  Thank  you,  sir,  for  your  pretty 
figure,"  she  curtsied  to  the  Poet;  "it  shall  be 
even  as  you  wish." 


SCENE    IV 


SCENE   IV 

CHAPTER    VI 

"  It  seems  rather  long,"  said  Sacharissa,  look- 
ing at  the  rod  which  the  Major  was  brandishing 
for  her  approval ;  "  and  isn't  it  very  heavy  ?  " 

"  I  shouldn't  call  it  heavy,"  he  replied.  "  I 
could  use  it  all  day." 

"You  must  be  very  strong,"  she  said  with 
some  admiration,  as  she  tested  its  weight.  The 
Major  pulled  his  moustache  with  a  pleased 
right  hand.  He  had  been  the  first  to  arrive, 
and  had  usefully  employed  the  time  in  describ- 
ing to  Sacharissa  the  capture  of  salmon.  Finally, 
taking  his  rod  out  of  its  case,  he  had  given 
practical  illustrations  of  the  proper  way  of  using 
it.  He  was  just  finishing  his  account  of  the 
sport  when  the  others  came  in  sight. 

"  Have  you  many  salmon  in  your  stream?  " 
asked  the  Scribe,  when  the  greetings  were  over, 
considering  the  Major's  rod. 

125 


126  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

"  I  don't  think  there  are  any,"  said  Sacharissa. 
"  I  never  heard  of  one." 

"You'll  find  eighteen  feet  rather  much  for 
a  dry-fly  rod,"  the  Scribe  gravely  assured  the 
Major. 

"I  haven't  anything  but  salmon  rods,"  said 
that  sportsman.  "  I  only  fish  for  salmon.  But 
if  I  get  hold  of  a  trout,  it  will  land  it,"  he 
added  confidently. 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  will  land  it,"  the  Scribe  agreed. 

"  I've  forgotten  to  bring  my  rod,"  announced 
the  Exotic,  in  the  tone  of  one  who  has  just 
made  a  delightful  discovery.  During  the  past 
week  the  Scribe  had  been  coaching  him  in  the 
art  of  fishing,  and  nice  distinctions  between  dry 
and  wet  flies  had  vexed  him  exceedingly ;  the 
climax  had  been  reached  when  his  teacher  had 
insisted  on  lending  him  a  rod  and  certain  mys- 
teries belonging  to  it,  with  injunctions  to  carry 
them  carefully,  to  lose  nothing,  and  to  break 
nothing.  The  Exotic  felt  that  his  freedom  as 
an  individual  depended  on  a  bold  stroke,  so 
with  much  seeming  solicitude  he  asked  the 
Scribe  to  arrange  the  things  in  marching  order, 
and  in  due  course  left  them  carefully  behind. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  127 

"You  shall  have  mine/'  said  the  Ambas- 
sador with  swift  unselfishness,  noting  at  the 
same  instant  that  Sacharissa  held  a  parasol  in 
her  left  hand.  "  No,  really,  I  shall  play  the 
part  of  spectator  to  perfection,'*  he  insisted, 
when  she  said  that  she  might  be  able  to  find  a 
rod  in  the  house. 

The  Exotic's  air  of  satisfaction  changed  to 
one  of  pain  as  the  Ambassador  spoke,  and 
became  one  of  horror  when  the  Major,  who 
had  found  out  beforehand  that  Sacharissa  did 
not  propose  to  take  part  in  the  slaughter,  added 
eagerly,  "  Won't  you  have  mine,  too  ?  " 

"  Wouldn't  that  give  him  an  unfair  advan- 
tage ? "  the  Scribe  suggested.  "  Beginner's 
luck,  you  know.  If  he  had  your  big  rod, 
there  is  no  limit  to  what  he  might  catch." 

"  Oh,  no,  he  mustn't  have  more  than  one 
rod,"  said  Sacharissa,  judicially.  "  If  you  really 
don't  mind  looking  on,"  she  turned  to  the 
Ambassador,  "we  can  act  as  umpires  together, 
and  you  shall  explain  things  to  me."  The 
Ambassador  expressed  his  delight  at  the  pros- 
pect in  suitable  language. 

The    Exotic    and    the    Major    looked    with 


128  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

distaste  at  their  rods,  but  made  no  further  re- 
monstrance. Sacharissa  noticed  their  dissatis- 
faction and  comforted  them  with  an  infinitesimal 
suggestion  of  coquetry  in  her  tone.  "  Remem- 
ber you  have  to  try  and  win  my  prize." 

"  Let  me  have  your  stick/'  said  the  Am- 
bassador to  the  Exotic,  who  handed  it  to 
him  silently. 

"  He  didn't  forget  his  rod,  then,"  said  the 
Man  of  Truth,  and  the  Scribe  smiled.  He 
bore  no  malice,  for  he  knew  the  Exotic. 

"  Why,  it's  like  a  small  tree,"  cried  Sacha- 
rissa, looking  at  the  mass  of  oak.  "  What 
do  you  carry  such  an  enormous  thing  for  ? " 
she  asked  the   Exotic. 

He  surveyed  it  with  affection.  "  For  fear 
I   should  lose  it,"   he  explained. 

"  What  does  he  mean  ?  "  asked  Sacharissa, 
generally.     The  Exotic  answered  for  himself 

"  Well,  I  always  know  when  I  have  got  it, 
because  it  is  so  heavy.  If  it  wasn't,  I 
shouldn't." 

Sacharissa  shook  her  head ;  the  Exotic's 
explanations  were  hard  to  follow.  "  Shall  we 
go  down  to  the  river  ?  "  she  suggested. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  129 

The  Scribe's  glance  included  Sacharissa  and 
the  Ambassador.  "  One  umpire  ought  to 
patrol  each  bank/'  he  said,  "  so  that  an  eye 
may  be  kept  on  all  the   competitors." 

"  I  hardly  think  that  will  be  necessary/' 
said  the  Ambassador  in  a  tone  that  closed  the 
discussion. 

The  Poet  now  spoke  as  one  who  knows  his 
subject.  "  I  am  going  to  get  very  secretly 
behind  a  tree  and  dobble  for  chevens  with  a 
grasshopper." 

Sacharissa  looked  to  the  Ambassador,  who 
for  once  was  obliged  to  confess  himself  at 
fault. 

The  Scribe  explained,  "  He  means  '  dibble 
for  chub.'  He  has  been  reading  The  Complete 
Angler,  There  aren't  any  chevens  in  this 
river,"  he  said  to  the  Poet,  "  only  trout." 

"  Well,  I  shall  dobble  for  them,''  insisted 
the   Poet. 

The  Man  of  Truth  was  now  in  a  position 
to  correct  him.  "  It  isn't  dobble,"  he  said 
with  warmth,  "  it's  dibble.  I  myself  shall 
fish  with  a  worm."  He  looked  defiance  at 
the  Scribe. 


I30  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

"  Do  you  allow  poaching  ?  '*  that  gentleman 
asked  Sacharissa. 

"  Oh,  yeSj"  she  replied  in  some  amusement ; 
"let  them  fish  in  any  way  they  like." 

The  Mime,  who  had  been  lost  in  thought, 
said  suddenly  in  pursuance  of  his  meditations, 
"  Yes,  it  will  make  an   effective   situation." 

"  What  will  ?  "  asked   the    Man   of  Truth. 

"The  scene  in  my  new  play,"  he  returned, 
"  in  which  I  appear  as  Thor  about  to  catch 
the  sea-serpent.  I  shall  study  the  part  this 
afternoon." 

"  There  aren't  any  sea-serpents  in  this 
river,"  said  the  Man  of  Truth  in  imitation 
of  the  Scribe. 

"  Canst  thou  draw  out  leviathan  with  an 
hook.?"  quoted   the  Ambassador. 

The  Man  of  Truth  pointed  to  the  figure 
of  a  gardener  in  the  distance.  "  May  I  ask 
him  to  dig  me  some  worms  ?  "  he  said. 

"  I  should  like  some,  too,"  said  the  Exotic, 
"  in  a  flower-pot."  The  Man  of  Truth  hur- 
ried off  to  talk  to  the  gardener,  v/hile  the 
rest  strolled  slowly  down  to  the  bridge. 
While    they   were   waiting   for   his   return    the 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  131 

Scribe  asked  Sacharissa  how  far  her  water 
extended. 

"  About  a  mile,  all  together,"  she  replied. 
"You  can  go  up-stream  as  far  as  a  little  mill 
and  down-stream  as  far  as  a  ford,  where  the 
lane  runs  through  the  river.  You  mustn't 
go  beyond,  because  it  belongs  to  the  Squire, 
and  he  gets  very  angry  with  trespassers." 

Presently  the  Man  of  Truth  reached  the 
bridge,  carrying  an  enormous  flower-pot.  "  Fve 
got  your  pot,"  he  said  cheerfully  to  the  Exotic, 
who  clutched  the  rail  of  the  bridge  for  sup- 
port as  he  looked  at  it. 

"  I  can't  carry  that,"  he  protested,  "  and 
besides,  you  haven't  got  one  for  your- 
self" 

"  Oh,  yes,  here's  mine,"  returned  the  Man 
of  Truth,  producing  a  little  pot  which  had 
lain  concealed  in  the  depths  of  the  other. 
"You  asked  for  a  flower-pot  and  you've  got 
it."  He  put  the  great  burden  into  the  Exotic's 
unwilling  hands.  "  You  haven't  got  your 
stick,  you  know,"   he   added. 

"  Would  that  the  Careful  Camel  were  here," 
sighed  the  Exotic. 


132  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

"  Well,  I  shall  go  up-stream  towards  the 
mill,"  said  the  Scribe. 

"  I  shall  go  down-stream,"  murmured  the 
Exotic ;  "  it's   easier  going  with    the  current." 

"So  will  I,"  said  the  Poet,  "there  are  more 
trees  down  there  for  me  to  dobble  under." 

"  Dibble,"  said  the  Man  of  Truth,  indig- 
nantly, as  he  walked  off  after  the  Scribe. 

The  Major  lingered  with  Sacharissa  and  the 
Ambassador  after  the  rest  had  gone,  and 
showed  no  signs  of  wishing  to  move  until 
she  reminded  him  of  the  important  interest 
at  stake.  "You  mustn't  let  the  others  get  a 
start,"  she  said. 

He  was  recalled  to  his  duty,  and  crossing 
the  bridge  departed  gloomy  but  determined. 

Sacharissa  and  the  Ambassador  remained  on 
the  bridge.  Below  the  ripples  flashed  in  the 
sunlight  as  they  chased  one  another  six  inches 
above  the  golden  gravel.  A  few  yards  lower 
down  the  stream  seemed  to  repent  of  its  haste, 
for  it  suddenly  became  much  deeper  and  swept 
round  in  a  great  eddy  under  the  bank  as 
though  it  would  retrace  its  course.  Here  long 
green  weeds  twined  and  intertwined,  yielding  to 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  133 

the  water*s  embrace.  On  the  garden  side  a 
smooth  grass  bank  sloped  down  from  the  path 
to  the  river,  forming  a  pleasant  contrast  to  the 
luxuriant  growth  that  fringed  the  other  side. 
At  irregular  intervals  willows  leaned  across  the 
stream,  beaten  into  fantastic  postures  by  winters 
of  storm  and  wind.  Under  their  shade  the 
water  seemed  to  flow  more  quietly,  and  to 
linger  before  it  emerged  into  the  sunlight  once 
more.  They  stood  for  some  time  listening  to 
the  soft  murmur  of  the  shallows,  and  the 
myriad  insect  sounds  of  a  summer  afternoon, 
and  watched  the  figures  of  the  fishermen 
gradually  lessening  as  they  pursued  their  way 
down-stream. 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  Sacharissa,  presently, 
laughing  as  she  pointed  with  the  handle  of 
her  parasol  after  them.  The  Exotic,  who  had 
started  with  the  air  of  an  Atlas  supporting  the 
world,  was  now  walking  comfortably  upright, 
while  the  Poet  carried  the  flower-pot. 

•"  He  has  elements  of  greatness,"  admitted 
the  Ambassador. 

Sacharissa  looked  at  him  from  under  her 
shady  hat.     "  I  wonder,"  she  said  thoughtfully. 


134  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

"  if  you  would  be  carrying  it  if  you  were  with 
him." 

"  I  wonder.'*  He  gave  the  matter  polite  con- 
sideration.   "I  am, as  you  see, carrying  his  stick." 

"  From  interested  motives,"  she  suggested 
slily. 

"  Well,  may  I  carry  your  parasol  ^  "  he  said 
with  promptitude. 

"  I  should  not  like  to  burden  you  with  it," 
she  replied. 

"  Indeed  it  would  be  no  burden,"  he  as- 
sured her. 

"  Then  it  would  hardly  be  a  fair  test,  would 
it?  "  she  returned  with  a  little  triumph. 

"  No,  it  would  not  be  a  fair  test,"  he 
admitted.  "  May  I  carry  it  ?  "  Sacharissa  dis- 
appeared behind  her  hat,  and  the  Ambassador 
was  left  to  contemplate  the  figures  of  his  friends, 
which,  however,  were  soon  lost  to  sight  behind 
a  clump  of  willows  at  a  bend  in  the  stream. 
He  called  her  attention  to  their  disappearance, 
and  she  bethought  her  of  her  duty. 

"  As  we  are  umpires,"  she  said,  "  we  ought 
not  to  stay  here  too  long.  Let  us  go  and  see 
how  they  are  getting  on." 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  135 

They  left  the  bridge  and  passed  along  the 
garden  path  by  the  river  until  they  came  to  a 
little  wicket-gate  opening  into  a  meadow  beyond. 

"  There  is  a  lane  here,"  she  said,  leading 
the  way  to  a  stile  in  the  left-hand  corner  of  the 
field,  "  which  will  take  us  right  down  to  the 
ford  I  spoke  of.  It  is  the  nearest  way,  and  we 
had  better  not  walk  along  the  bank,  or  I  shall 
frighten  the  trout.  It's  a  nice  shady  lane,  too.'' 
The  Ambassador  approved  of  the  suggested 
route,  and  when  they  reached  the  stile  offered 
his  hand  as  she  stepped  daintily  across. 

In  the  meanwhile,  all  unconscious  of  im- 
pending umpires,  the  Exotic  lay  at  his  ease  on  a 
grassy  mound  a  few  yards  from  the  ford,  under 
the  shadow  of  an  oak  tree  in  the  hedge  which 
divided  the  meadow  from  the  lane,  while  be- 
fore him  stood  three  small  rustics,  round- 
eyed  and  open-mouthed.  He  had  apologised 
to  the  Poet  for  the  unusual  energy  which  had 
enduced  him  to  come  thus  far,  by  saying  that 
if  he  came  as  far  as  he  could,  he  would  not  be 
expected  to  go  any  farther.  The  Poet  had 
then  deposited  the  flower-pot  and  the  Exotic's 
rod,  which  he  was  by  this  time  carrying,  under 


136  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

a  willow,  and  had  returned  to  the  spot  he  had 
marked  for  himself.  The  Exotic  had  not  been 
resting  long  when  he  became  aware  of  sup- 
pressed merriment  in  the  lane  close  by,  and 
looking  round  had  discovered  three  faces  peep- 
ing at  him  over  the  gate  behind.  Swift  in 
decision,  he  had  beckoned  to  the  boys  to 
approach,  and  was  addressing  them  as  Sacha- 
rissa  and  the  Ambassador  came  to  the  bottom 
of  the  lane.  They  too  looked  over  the  gate, 
and  glanced  at  each  other.  It  seemed  an  in- 
appropriate moment  for  declaring  their  presence ; 
a  wild-rose  bush  in  the  hedge  afforded  tempting 
cover,  and  drawing  back  behind  it  they  watched 
unsuspected. 

"  Children,"  he  was  saying,  "  I  fear  me  that 
you  are  wholly  unacquainted  with  the  History 
of  the  Considerate  Kurd,  which  if  you  are  good 
I  will  presently  recount  unto  you.  In  the 
meantime,  know  you  aught  concerning  the 
nature  of  fishes  ?"  No  answer  was  forthcom- 
ing, so  the  Exotic  patiently  reconstructed  his 
enquiry.     "  What,  children,  is  a  trout  ?  '* 

"  Fish,"  suggested  the  boldest  of  the  three 
with  some  hesitation. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  137 

"Allah  is  great/*  admitted  the  Exotic. 
"Have  you  any  skill  in  its  enticement?" 
The  question  passed  harmlessly  over  their 
heads.  "  How  do  you  catch  it  ?  "  he  repeated 
in  the  vernacular. 

"  Worm/*  said  the  spokesman,  with  dawning 
comprehension. 

"  Mohammed  is  his  prophet/'  conceded  the 
Exotic,  with  relief.  "  Do  you  also,  in  the  pro- 
fundity of  your  intelligence,  conceal  any  know- 
ledge touching  the  nature  of  sixpence  ?  "  The 
word  '  sixpence  *  seemed  to  be  known  to  them ; 
they  exchanged  grins. 

"  Bribery  and  corruption/'  murmured  the 
Ambassador  to  Sacharissa,  who  laid  her  hand 
on  his  arm  to  keep  him  silent. 

"  Be  it  known,  then,"  continued  the  Exotic, 
"  that  for  every  several  fish  I  will  disburse  six- 
pence. Under  that  tree  lie  an  implement  and 
a  receptacle."  The  Exotic  waved  his  cigarette 
in  the  direction  of  the  flower-pot.  The  chil- 
dren looked  round  in  alarm,  edging  nervously 
away  from  the  dangerous  locality. 

The  Exotic  hastened  to  remove  the  false 
impression.      "  I    mean    a    fishing    rod    and    a 


138  THE    COURT   OF   SACHARISSA 

flower-pot  with  worms.  Go  you  and  catch 
fish  and  I  will  give  sixpences." 

Sacharissa's  hand  shook  on  the  Ambassador's 
arm.  "  We  are  umpires/'  he  reminded  her  in 
a  whisper. 

"  Please  don't  interrupt/'  she  entreated. 

The  boys  became  men  of  action  at  once ; 
they  hurried  to  the  tree  and  picked  up  the  rod 
and  flower-pot,  while  the  Exotic  sighed  con- 
tentedly, as  though  a  weight  had  been  taken 
from  his  mind.  His  gaze  wandered  up  the 
stream.  In  the  distance  could  be  seen  the 
Poet  on  his  hands  and  knees  making  tentative 
grabs  at  something  in  the  grass.  Beyond  him 
in  the  sunlight  stood  the  Mime  apostrophis- 
ing a  tree,  his  hands  outstretched  in  eloquent 
appeal. 

A  thought  appeared  to  strike  the  Exotic. 
"  Stay  !  "  he  said  to  the  boys.  "  Two  of  you 
come  here.  Do  you  see  those  gentlemen 
making  their  evening  prayer  ?"  he  asked,  point- 
ing to  the  figures.  "  Inasmuch  as  they  are 
absorbed  in  their  devotions,  they  have  no 
present  need  for  two  fishing  rods  which  you 
will    find    lying    somewhere    in    their    vicinity. 


A   MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  139 

Go  and  fetch  them,  without,  however,  unduly 
disturbing  the  gentlemen." 

"As  umpires  .  .  ."  began  the  Ambassador 
in  a  low  tone,  but  Sacharissa  shook  her  head 
imperiously,  putting  one  finger  to  her  lips. 

"  That  is  well  done,"  said  the  Exotic,  when 
the  boys  had  performed  their  mission  success- 
fully, without  attracting  the  notice  of  either  the 
Poet  or  the  Mime.  "  Now  go  and  catch  fish 
with  them."  The  boys  presently  sat  down  on 
the  river  bank  in  an  obedient  row. 

Sacharissa  pointed  to  the  figures  in  the 
distance  which  were  still  in  the  same  attitudes, 
and  whispered,  "  Come  away  now,  1  want  to 
laugh." 

When  they  were  out  of  earshot,  she  sat 
down  on  an  old  stump  by  the  side  of  the  lane. 
"  I  never  saw  anything  Hke  him,"  she  said, 
almost  hysterically.  "  But  I'm  so  sorry  for 
the  Poet,"  she  went  on.  "What  will  he  do 
when  he  finds  his  rod  is  gone  ?  He'll  be  like 
the  White  Rabbit." 

"  He'll  write  a  poem,  I  expect,"  the  Ambas- 
sador replied,  "  if  he  ever  gets  as  far  as  the  dis- 
covery of  his  loss.     At  present  he  still  seems 


I40  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

to  be  trying  to  catch  grasshoppers."  The 
Ambassador  was  standing  looking  over  the 
hedge.  "  Can  we  get  into  the  next  field  with- 
out being  seen  ?  "  he  asked.  "  We  could  watch 
him  through  the  hedge  if  you  liked,  and  get 
quite  close  to  both  of  them." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  cried  Sacharissa,  jumping  up. 
"  There  is  a  gate,  and  we  can  get  along  under 
the  hedge." 

"  He  is  very  unsuccessful,  poor  boy,"  said 
Sacharissa,  presently.  The  Poet  was  now  not 
far  from  them,  still  on  his  hands  and  knees. 
Every  now  and  then  he  grabbed  at  some  object 
in  the  grass,  and  after  each  effort  he  opened  his 
hand  very  cautiously  with  a  look  of  expectation 
which  changed  to  blank  surprise  as  he  found  it 
empty. 

As  she  spoke,  however,  he  made  a  last  suc- 
cessful grab,  and  rose  in  triumph.  "  Now, 
I  can  begin  to  dobble,"  he  murmured  to 
himself,  and  he  hurried  off  to  the  river  bank. 
Sacharissa  and  the  Ambassador  walked  quickly 
along  under  the  hedge  until  they  were  almost 
at  the  river.  As  they  got  nearer  they  could 
hear  the  voice  of  the  Mime  declaiming. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  141 

"  O  watery  monster,  whose  unending  coils, 
.  .  /'  he  spouted,  and  the  Poet  broke  in,  — 

"  Have  you  seen  my  rod  anywhere  about  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  No,"  answered  the  Mime,  shortly.  "  O 
watery  monster,  .  .  ."  he  began  again,  but  the 
interruption  had  put  him  out,  and  he  was  com- 
pelled to  stop  and  search  his  memory.  "  O 
watery  monster,  .  .  ."  he  repeated  several  times, 
and  then  the  Poet  interrupted  him  anew. 

"  I  wonder  if  I  brought  it,"  he  said.  "  Do 
you  remember  seeing  if  I  had  it  with  me  when 
I  came  ? " 

"No,  I  don't,"  returned  the  Mime,  with 
impatience.  "  Go  away  and  don't  interrupt. 
O  watery  monster,  .  .  ." 

Sacharissa  looked  appealingly  at  the  Ambas- 
sador. The  hedge  was  thick  at  this  point,  and 
just  too  high  to  see  over.  He  understood. 
"  Stand  on  that  stump  and  lean  on  my 
shoulder,"  he  suggested,  putting  an  obtrusive 
spray  of  honeysuckle  gently  aside. 

She  was  now  able  to  see  what  was  happening 
in  the  next  meadow.  The  Mime  was  standing 
in  an  attitude  of  tragic  meditation,  with  his  right 


142 


THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 


hand  to  his  brow  and  his  left  hand  supporting 
his  elbow,  racking  his  brains.  He  had  com- 
pletely lost  his  context. 

"  You  are  quite  right/'  she  whispered  to  the 
Ambassador,  as  she  looked  at  the  Poet.  "  He 
is  sitting  under  a  willow  with  his  notebook  on 
his  knee,  and  is  trying  to  find  his  pencil."  Her 
eye  travelled  to  the  other  end  of  the  field. 
"  The  Exotic  is  asleep,  I  think,  and  I  can  only 
see  two  of  the  boys." 

"  They  won't  catch  many  fish,"  she  said,  as 
she  stepped  down.  "  I  could  stay  and  watch 
them  for  ever,  but  we  really  must  go  and  look 
at  the  others." 

"  Yes,  our  duty  as  umpires  must  not  be  neg- 
lected," he  agreed. 

"  You  are  very  conscientious,"  she  an- 
nounced, with  slight  feminine  scorn  of  male 
ideas  of  duty. 

"  I  am  your  very  obedient  servant,"  he 
returned,  "  and  you  told  me  I  was  an  um- 
pire," but  his  glance  fell  harmlessly  on  her  hat. 
Perhaps  it  was  for  this  reason  that  he 
added,  "  Otherwise,  I  should  not  have  known 
it." 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL 


43 


"  We  mustn't  be  too  strict,"  she  said  gently, 
as  they  strolled  along  the  bank  of  the  stream. 

"  Do  you  think  we  have  been  ?  *'  he  asked 
with  a  smile. 

"  No,"  she  was  compelled  to  admit,  "  but  I 
think  you  are  inclined  to  be." 

"  You  would  very  soon  spoil  them,"  he  said. 

"  I  should  like  to  try,"  she  laughed.  Her 
eyes  flashed  with  merriment  as  she  looked  at 
him.  "  Will  you  give  them  to  me  ?  I  would 
have  a  big  nursery  —  no,  I  mean  a  studio,  built 
for  them,  and  let  them  do  nothing  but  play.** 

"You  would  want  someone  to  look  after 
them,"  suggested  the  Ambassador,  giving  the 
idea  his  consideration. 

"  The  Major ! "  she  said  suddenly,  as  a 
voice  on  the  other  bank  reached  them  from 
behind  a  clump  of  trees.  It  said  "  damn " 
twice  very  distinctly. 

"  He  would  not  be  able  to  manage  them," 
objected  the  Ambassador,  keeping  to  the  topic. 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  mean  that,"  she  said  very 
quickly,  with  a  little  distressed  blush,  "  I 
meant  that  was  his  voice.  I  expect  he  is  in 
difficulties.    Please  stop  him  before  he  becomes 


144 


THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 


too  military."  The  Ambassador  coughed 
audibly. 

"  Oh,  I  say,"  shouted  the  voice,  "  you  might 
unhook  my  fly.  Will  you  ?  It's  hung  up  on 
that  beastly  bush.'*  The  Ambassador  stepped 
up  to  the  bush  and  released  the  fly. 

"Thanks,  awfully,"  said  the  Major.  "Of 
all  the  infernal  .  .  ."  he  checked  himself,  as  he 
caught  sight  of  Sacharissa.  "  I  find  this  river  a 
bit  too  small,"  he  said  apologetically. 

"  It  isn't  very  big,"  she  agreed.  "  Have  you 
caught  anything  ? " 

"  Only  one  fingerling,"  said  the  Major,  with 
some  despondence. 

She  comforted  him.  "  I  don't  think  they've 
caught  anything  down  below,  so  you  needn't 
despair."  The  Major  brightened  a  little  at 
this  and  began  to  fish  with  renewed  energy 
as  they  left  him. 

Before  them  lay  a  hedge  with  a  gap  in  it, 
and  also  a  stile  a  little  out  of  their  course.  The 
Ambassador  led  the  way  toward  the  stile. 
"  Oh,  we  needn't  go  all  that  way,"  said 
Sacharissa,  "we  can  get  through  this  gap." 
The    Ambassador    made    an    admirable    pre- 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  145 

tence  of  having  noticed  the  gap  for  the  first 
time. 

"  So  we  can,"  he  said,  removing  a  bramble 
with  his  stick  and  holding  back  some  twigs, 
while  she  stepped  through. 

They  now  found  themselves  in  the  first 
meadow  again,  and  crossing  it  they  re-entered 
the  garden  by  the  wicket-gate.  "  We  must  go 
over  the  bridge  and  up  the  other  bank,"  she  said. 

They  had  not  to  walk  very  far  before  they 
found  the  objects  of  their  search.  At  a  bend 
in  the  river,  where  the  water  after  fifty  yards 
of  rippling  shallow  formed  a  deep  pool  under 
some  bushes,  the  Man  of  Truth  was  sitting 
with  his  rod  resting  on  a  bush  and  his  line 
in  the  water,  smoking  a  pipe.  Behind  him 
in  the  meadow  stood  the  Scribe  with  his  rod 
over  his  shoulder,  looking  contemptuously 
down  at  some  object  in  the  grass.  "  Is  that 
your  idea  of  a  fish  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  repHed  the  Man  of  Truth  without 
turning  his  head.  "  It's  a  trout.  It  took  a 
very  large  worm  and  swallowed  it." 

"  Lucky  the  proceeding  wasn't  reversed," 
said  the  Scribe. 


146  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

"  Well,  you  haven't  got  a  trout  at  all/' 
retorted  the  Man  of  Truth. 

"  If  that  is  a  trout,"  said  the  Scribe,  "  I'm 
pleased  to  say  I  have  not." 

Sacharissa  and  the  Ambassador  had  by  this 
time  reached  the  disputants.  The  Scribe 
pointed  silently  to  the  diminutive  fish  in  the 
grass.  "  He's  doing  his  best  to  win  the 
prize,"   he  remarked. 

"  Is  that  a  fingerhng  ?  "  asked  Sacharissa. 
"The   Major  said  he  had  caught  one." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Scribe,  "  that  is  a  fingerling. 
In  time  it  would  possibly  have  become  a 
trout." 

"  It  is  a  trout,"  said  the  Man  of  Truth, 
vehemently. 

The  Ambassador  called  the  Scribe's  atten- 
tion to  a  fish  rising  under  the  other  bank  some 
distance  higher  up.  "Yes,  do  catch  it," 
urged  Sacharissa. 

"  It's  only  a  small  one,"  said  the  Scribe, 
but  he  consented  to  make  the  attempt.  Ad- 
vancing cautiously  a  few  yards  up-stream  he 
dropped  on  one  knee  and  began  to  lengthen 
his  line. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  147 

"  It*s  very  pretty  to  watch,"  murmured 
Sacharissa  to  the  Ambassador  as  the  line  and 
rod  swept  backwards  and  forwards  in  graceful 
curves  through  the  air. 

The  Scribe  by  this  time  had  a  sufficient 
length  of  line,  so  he  suffered  the  fly  to  fall 
on  the  water  at  the  next  cast.  It  dropped 
as  lightly  as  a  real  insect  about  two  feet  above 
the  spot  where  the  trout  had  risen  and  floated 
down  with  the  stream.  Then  there  was  a 
dimple  on  the  surface  of  the  water  and  the 
fly  disappeared.  A  slight  movement  of  the 
forearm  showed  that  the  Scribe  was  ready 
for  this,  and  at  once  a  trout  jumped  out  of 
the  water  firmly  hooked. 

"  I  knew  it  was  only  a  little  thing,"  he  said, 
winding  in  his  line. 

"  Oh,  dear,  you've  thrown  it  in  again,"  cried 
Sacharissa  when  the  fish  had  been  landed  and 
inspected. 

"  It  was  too  small  to  keep,"  he  assured  her. 

"  But  it  was  much  bigger  than  this,"  she 
persisted,  pointing  to  the  Man  of  Truth's 
trout.  "  You  won't  get  the  prize,"  she  added, 
a  little  piqued. 


148  THE    COURT    OF    SACHARISSA 

"  I  love  honour  more,"  quoted  the  Scribe, 
smiling  at  her.  Sacharissa  looked  at  him 
curiously. 

"  He  is  quite  right,"  said  the  Ambassador. 
"  On  a  dry-fly  stream  one  ought  not  to  keep 
anything  under  three-quarters  of  a  pound." 

"  I  suppose  you  know  best,"  she  said,  not 
in  the  least  convinced. 


SCENE    IV 

CHAPTER   VII 

Sacharissa  looked  at  her  watch.  "  We 
have  another  hour  before  tea,"  she  said. 
"  Shall  we  go  down  the  lane  again  ?  I  do 
want  to  see  whether  they  have  found  their 
fishing  rods." 

"  I  expect  there  have  been  developements," 
said  the  Ambassador  as  they  re-crossed  the 
bridge.  "  Round  the  Exotic  things  seldom 
stand  still." 

"  How  ever  does  he  manage  it  ? "  she 
asked.     "  He  never  seems  to  move  himself." 

"Never,  if  he  can  help  it,"  he  admitted, 
"and  that,  I  think,  is  the  secret.  His  whole 
attitude  of  Hfe  is  a  constant  reminder  to  others 
that  their  own  energy  is  comparatively  un- 
tiring, and  they  are  so  impressed  that  they 
hasten  to  put  it  at  his  disposal."  The  Am- 
bassador paused  to  light  a  cigarette  before  he 

149 


I50  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

went  on.  "  If,  as  you  suggested  a  little  time 
ago,  you  were  to  keep  the  three  of  them  in 
a  large  nursery  without  anyone  to  help  you, 
you  would  find  yourself  a  very  hard-worked 
person." 

The  Ambassador  seemed  to  speak  with 
some  little  feeling.  Sacharissa  laughed.  "  I 
corrected  myself  and  said  studio,"  she  said. 
"  It  makes  a  good  deal  of  difference.  They 
would  do  things  in  a  studio,"  she  added 
vaguely.  The  Ambassador  appeared  not  quite 
to  understand.  "  I  mean,"  she  went  on,  "  the 
Poet  could  write  poems  and  the  Mime  could 
rehearse,  and  the  Exotic  .  .  ."  she  paused ; 
it  was  not  quite  clear  what  the  Exotic  could 
do,  "  the  Exotic  could  paint,  perhaps  ?  "  She 
looked  at  him  doubtfully  to  see  what  he 
thought  of  the  suggestion. 

The  Ambassador  was  much  amused.  "  I 
am  afraid  not,"  he  returned.  "  The  utmost 
that  he  would  do  would  be  to  make  himself 
comfortable  with  plenty  of  cushions.  Art  and 
cushions  are  practically  synonymous  with  him. 
When  he  was  quite  comfortable  he  would  ask 
you  to  fetch  things." 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  151 

They  had  paused  as  if  by  mutual  consent  to 
discuss  this  important  problem,  and  were  stand- 
ing at  the  bottom  of  the  yew  alley.  A  light 
breeze  wafted  toward  them  the  subtle  fragrance 
of  Sacharissa's  roses,  and  their  eyes  obeyed  the 
call ;  they  looked  along  between  the  dark 
green  walls  to  the  fountain  with  its  marble 
figures  half  hid  in  a  mist  of  spray  and  to  the 
rosebushes  beyond  it,  a  bank  of  many  coloured 
blossoms  that  closed  the  vista, 

"  Ought  not  the  umpires  to  inspect  the 
prize  ?  "  suggested  the  Ambassador. 

"  It  isn't  picked  yet,"  Sacharissa  admitted. 

"  That  is  a  duty  that  should  not  be  neg- 
lected," he  said. 

"  There  are  scissors  and  a  basket  in  the 
summer-house,"  she  confessed,  and  he  hurried 
off  to  fetch  them. 

When  he  returned  he  found  her  contem- 
plating a  magnificent  damask  rose.  "  That 
ought  to  be  the  prize,"  she  said  doubt- 
fully. 

"An  emblem  of  its  giver  .  .  ."  murmured 
the  Ambassador,  with  a  far-away  look,  as  of 
one  who  searches  his  memory. 


152  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

Sacharlssa  cut  the  rose  with  a  touch  of  de- 
fiance.    "  The  basket,  please,"  she  said. 

The  Ambassador  held  it  out.  "An  Oriental 
beauty,"  he  observed,  regarding  the  dusky 
petals.  Sacharissa  moved  on  to  another  bush 
in  disdain.  Her  next  choice  was  a  corpulent 
cabbage-rose  which  she  offered  to  him  in  play- 
ful rebuke.  "  Too  Germanic,"  he  remarked, 
as  he  consigned  it  to  the  basket.  "  Japanese," 
he  commented,  still  unfavourably,  as  she  snipped 
the  stalk  of  a  tea-rose. 

A  pure  white  bud  next  attracted  her  atten- 
tion. "  Still  in  the  convent,"  was  his  criticism. 
As  he  spoke  his  eye  lighted  on  a  half-open 
flower  beyond.  "  The  prize  itself,"  he  ex- 
claimed, stretching  forth  his  hand.  "  White, 
with  a  faint  crimson  blush,"  he  added,  ad- 
dressing the  spray  which  he  bent  down  for  his 
scissors. 

"  Since  you  are  satisfied,"  said  Sacharissa, 
with  supreme  unconcern,  "  we  won't  cut  any 
more.  Besides,  we  have  wasted  a  lot  of  time. 
Will  you  put  these  things  back  in  the  summer- 
house,  please  ? " 

The  Ambassador,  considering  a  flower  that 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  153 

might  have  been  twin  sister  to  the  one  of  his 
choice,  was  about  to  speak.  But  Sacharissa 
had  not  followed  his  gaze,  so  he  checked  him- 
self, and  turning  bore  the  basket  and  scissors 
back  to  the  arbour.  This  done,  they  returned 
to  the  river  side,  and  again  set  off  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  ford.  When  they  were  in  the  lane, 
the  Ambassador  noticed  something. 

"  Surely  they  cannot  have  caught  enough 
fish  already  to  be  perceptible  at  this  distance?" 
he  said. 

Sacharissa  relieved  his  anxiety.  "  It  is  only 
the  fish-cart,*'  she  explained,  as  a  small  hawker's 
cart  came  in  view.  "  It  comes  round  twice  a 
week  with  mackerel  and  herrings  and  things." 

The  Ambassador's  brow  cleared.  "  I  was 
afraid,"  he  said,  "  that  the  Exotic  might  some- 
how have  obtained  a  net  and  some  men  to  use 
it  for  him.  Shall  we  go  in  here  first  and  see 
how  the  Major  is  getting  on  ?  "  They  had  now 
reached  the  gate  leading  into  the  second  field. 
They  entered  and  walked  across  the  grass 
towards  the  river. 

"  I  can  see  the  Major's  rod,"  she  said.  "He 
seems  to  be  still  in  about  the  same  place." 


154  THE    COURT    OF    SACHARISSA 

"Yes,  there  he  is,"  said  the  Ambassador, 
"and  there  is  someone  sitting  on  the  bank 
opposite  to  him/'  When  they  got  nearer 
they  found  that  the  seated  figure  was  the 
Mime,  who  was  talking  to  the  Major  across 
the  stream.  That  gentleman  was  trying  to 
bend  a  tough  and  ancient  willow  to  the  ground, 
without  much  success. 

"Why  not  cut  it  down?"  they  could  hear 
the  Mime  say  as  they  got  within  earshot. 
"  I'll  lend  you  a  knife." 

The  Major's  reply  caused  Sacharissa  to  look 
at  the  Ambassador  in  comic  dismay.  "  He's 
becoming  military  again,"  she  whispered.  For- 
tunately the  Major  saw  them  and  reserved  his 
further  remarks.      He  also  became  apologetic. 

"There  are  too  many  trees  by  this  river," 
he  said.  "  I've  been  spending  most  of  my 
time  catching  them." 

Sacharissa  expressed  her  sympathy,  and  asked 
if  he  had  caught  anything  beside. 

"  One  more  fingerling,"  he  answered,  giving 
the  willow  another  tug. 

"  Take  hold  of  the  line,"  suggested  the 
Ambassador,  "and  jerk  it  a    little  —  not    too 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  155 

hard."  The  Major  made  trial  of  this  new 
method,  and  the  fly  came  away  easily,  to  his 
evident  surprise. 

"  It  will  generally  come  if  it  is  not  in  the 
wood,"  the  Ambassador  explained. 

The  Mime  had  sprung  to  his  feet  when  he 
heard  Sacharissa's  voice.  He  now  said  in  a 
tragic  tone,  "  A  horrible  thing  has  overtaken 
me."  Sacharissa  was  full  of  sympathy,  and 
asked  what  it  was. 

"  I  have  lost  my  memory,"  he  answered  in 
great  depression.  She  looked  surprised,  and 
he  explained.  "  I  was  in  the  middle  of  my 
great  scene  with  the  sea-serpent,  and  had  just 
got  to  the  point  where  I  address  the  monster's 
head  as  it  emerges  from  the  waves,  when  the 
Poet  came  up  to  me  with  some  silly  question 
and  threw  me  out  completely.  I  haven't  been 
able  to  remember  a  word  since." 

Sacharissa  kept  a  grave  face  with  an  effort. 
"Why  didn't  you  go  on  fishing?"  she  asked. 
"  The  words  might  have  come  back  to  you  if 
you  had  not  worried  about  them." 

"  Fishing  ? "  repeated  the  Mime,  without 
intelHgence,  as  though  he  did  not  understand 


156  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

the  word.  Presently,  however,  it  came  back 
to  him.  "  Oh,  yes,  of  course,"  he  said,  "  I 
meant  to  fish,  but  I  couldn't  find  my  rod,  so 
I  came  along  here." 

Sacharissa  felt  that  at  last  she  might  smile 
lawfully.  "  Did  you  look  for  it  ?  "  she  ques- 
tioned. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  I  looked  for  it,  and 
I  asked  the  Poet  if  he  had  seen  it." 

The  Mime  needed  a  good  deal  of  prompting 
now  that  he  had  lost  his  memory.  "  Had  he  ?  " 
enquired  the  Ambassador. 

"No,"  replied  the  Mime, in  an  injured  tone, 
"  he  was  rude.  He  was  writing  a  poem  or 
something,  and  he  told  me  not  to  bother  him, 
and  said  he  knew  nothing  about  my  rod  and 
cared  less.  So  I  came  along  and  asked  the 
Major,  didn't  I  ? "  He  appealed  across  the 
stream  for  confirmation. 

"Yes,  you  did,"  returned  the  Major,  with 
an  emphasis  that  spoke  volumes. 

"  Well,  I  daresay  you'll  find  it  eventually," 
said  the  Ambassador. 

"  I  don't  think  I  shall  fish  any  more,"  an- 
swered  the    Mime,  oblivious  of  the  fact  that 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  157 

he  had  not  fished  at  all.  "  I  believe  .  .  /' 
he  added  slowly,  "  I  feel  almost  as  if  my  mem- 
ory were  coming  back  to  me.  You  have 
brought  it,"  he  cried  with  sudden  conviction 
to  Sacharissa. 

"  I  am  so  glad,''  she  said,  retreating  a  little 
and  glancing  at  the  Ambassador,  as  she  sug- 
gested that  they  ought  to  be  going  on. 

Before  they  were  quite  out  of  earshot  they 
heard  the  Mime  break  forth  into  his  inter- 
rupted speech. 

"  O  watery  monster,  whose  unending  coils 
Embrace  the  circuit  of  this  mortal  globe, 
Attend  my  words  and  ..." 

at  this  point  the  Ambassador  looked  round. 
The  Mime  was  gesticulating  in  the  direction  of 
the  spot  where  the  Major  had  been  standing, 
while  the  Major  himself  was  making  the  best 
of  his  way  up-stream  with  long,  hurried  strides. 
Sacharissa  stepped  up  on  to  her  stump  again. 
"  The  Poet  is  asleep  under  a  willow,"  she 
said,  looking  over  the  hedge.  "  I  hope  he  is 
having  a  pleasant  dream.  The  Exotic  has 
found  some  more  friends,  little  girls,  I  think. 


158  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

but  I  can't  see  very  plainly.  I  believe  he's  tell- 
ing them  a  story.  They  are  all  standing  round 
him  in  a  group.  I  should  like  to  hear  the  story 
too,"  she  declared  as  she  jumped  down. 

They  walked  quickly  along  the  lane  till 
they  were  quite  close  to  the  gate.  Here  they 
stopped  as  before  and  watched  the  Exotic  and 
his  party. 

"  These  are  excellent  strawberries,"  he  was 
saying  genially  to  the  tallest  of  the  little  girls, 
who  seemed  to  be  about  ten  years  old.  "  And 
so,  to  finish  the  story,  I  have  only  to  add  that 
they  all  lived  happily  ever  afterwards."  He 
ate  the  last  strawberry  and  smiled  benignly  on 
his  wondering  audience.  "  And  that,  children, 
is  the  moving  History  of  the  Considerate  Kurd, 
or  at  least  such  portions  of  it  as  an  all-wise 
Providence  has  decreed  I  should  relate  unto 
you.  Now,  little  girl,  you  may  take  away  the 
cabbage-leaf,  in  which  you  will  find  an  adequate 
recompense." 

"Am  /  never  to  hear  that  story  ?  "  whispered 
Sacharissa  to  the  Ambassador  a  little  petulantly. 
The  Ambassador  took  refuge  in  an  apologetic 
silence. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  159 

"  It  is  a  common  complaint  with  your  sex/* 
continued  the  Exotic,  "  that  you  do  not  re- 
ceive the  same  educational  advantages  as  your 
brothers."  Sacharissa  glanced  at  the  Ambas- 
sador. "  I  think  I  have  this  day  shown  my 
willingness  to  remove  the  disability."  The 
Exotic's  eloquence  moved  the  smallest  girl  to 
a  flood  of  tears,  which  her  elder  sister  vainly 
tried  to  stem.  The  Exotic  was  pained.  "  I 
regret,"  he  went  on,  "  that  any  words  of  mine 
should  seem  to  you  a  fit  subject  for  lamenta- 
tion." He  paused  a  moment,  but  the  weep- 
ing continued,  and  he  resumed  his  discourse 
more  sternly.  "You  almost  move  me  to 
regret  my  well-intentioned  effort  to  remove 
the  disability.  The  fact  that  this  is  the  fourth 
time  that  you  have  interrupted  me  with  un- 
seemly grief  moves  me  to  exclaim  with  the 
Placid  Pasha,  in  one  of  those  portions  of  the 
tale  which  were  too  lofty  for  your  comprehen- 
sion, /  offered  the  Drawer  of  water  a  rose 
and  she  besought  me  for  an  onion ^  The 
weeping  now  became  so  vehement  that  the 
Exotic  ventured  on  a  reproof.  "Your  broth- 
ers,"   he    said,    "  betrayed    no    such    emotion 


i6o  THE    COURT   OF   SACHARISSA 

when  I  bestowed  on  them  this  pearl  of  narra- 
tives. 

"  Please,  sir,  they  ran  away/'  said  the  eldest 
sister,  as  if  in  explanation. 

The  Exotic  waived  the  immediate  point. 
"Well,  children,  let  it  be  a  lesson  to  you; 
always  run  away  when  you  perceive  the  im- 
minence of  a  tribulation  that  is  beyond  your 
powers  of  endurance.  Even  now  it  is  not  too 
late."  The  hint  was  not  so  plain  to  the  chil- 
dren as  might  have  been  expected,  so  the 
Exotic  waved  his  left  hand.  "  You  have  my 
permission  to  retire,"  he  said  in  the  manner 
of  a  potentate.  The  gesture  rather  than  the 
words  had  the  desired  effect,  and  the  little  girls 
moved  away  into  the  meadow,  a  timorous, 
backward-glancing  band.  The  Exotic  com- 
posed himself  again  to  meditation. 

"  Poor  little  things,"  said  Sacharissa  to  the 
Ambassador. 

At  this  moment  a  loud  voice  in  the  field 
on  the  other  side  of  the  lane  caused  her 
to  start.  "What  the  devil  do  you  mean  by 
it  ?  "  it  said  among  other  things  less  fit  to 
repeat. 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  i6i 

"Another  military  man,"  observed  the 
Ambassador. 

"  It  is  the  Squire,"  whispered  Sacharissa  in 
a  little  flutter  of  alarm. 

"A  gentleman  sent  you,  did  he?  "  continued 
the  voice.  "  Where  is  he  ?  I  shall  be  glad 
of  a  few  moments*  conversation  with  that 
gentleman." 

"  One  of  those  boys  trespassing,"  murmured 
Sacharissa.  "  Oh,  dear,  he  will  be  in  the  lane 
in  a  minute."  She  looked  round  for  a  hiding- 
place.  "  I  can't  meet  him,"  she  said  ner- 
vously. "  He  becomes  so  frightfully  rude 
when  he  is  angry." 

The  Ambassador  pointed  out  a  sort  of  em- 
brasure in  the  hedge  a  few  yards  away  where 
a  projecting  bush  offered  a  sufficient  conceal- 
ment. They  had  hardly  taken  cover  when 
the  voice  reached  them  again,  evidently  from 
the  lane  itself  now.  The  Ambassador  stole 
a  cautious  glance  round  the  bush.  A  tall 
elderly  gentleman  in  gaiters  was  striding  across 
the  lane  dragging  by  the  collar  a  small  boy, 
who  in  his  turn  was  dragging  a  fishing  rod 
which  the  Ambassador  recognised  with    some 


i62  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

dismay  as  his  own.  "  Yes,  you  take  me  to 
him,  that*s  all,"  said  the  Squire,  indignantly,  as 
he  clambered  over  the  gate,  still  clutching  the 
collar  of  his  captive. 

"  He'll  beat  the  Exotic,"  whispered  Sacha- 
rissa,  apprehensively,  out  of  her  knowledge  of 
the  Squire. 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  returned  the  Ambassa- 
dor, out  of  his  knowledge  of  the  Exotic.  "  But 
if  he  does,  I  will  go  and  rescue  him.  You 
must  not  appear  in  this."  Sacharissa  looked 
relieved  and  grateful. 

"  May  I  ask,  sir,  what  is  the  meaning  of 
this  ?  "  they  heard  the  Squire  say  as  an  opening. 

"You  may,"  replied  the  Exotic,  giving  the 
required  permission  amiably  enough.  The 
Ambassador,  standing  on  tiptoe,  could  see  that 
he  had  not  altered  his  position.  This  answer 
was  apparently  not  quite  what  the  Squire  had 
expected.  It  stopped  him  for  a  moment,  but 
he  presently  continued. 

"  What,  then,  is  the  meaning  of  it  ? "  he 
asked  angrily. 

The  Exotic  looked  as  if  he  were  giving 
the  matter  impartial  consideration.     "  Really, 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL.  163 

you  should  be  a  better  judge  than  I,"  he  an- 
swered with  diffidence ;  "  but  if  you  indeed 
require  my  opinion,  when  I  see  a  large  man 
in  apparent  disagreement  with  a  small  boy,  my 
first  impression  always  is  that  someone  is,  or 
has  been,  in  error." 

The  Squire  was  speechless  with  wrath  and 
amazement.  He  shook  his  captive  to  convince 
himself  that  he  was  awake,  and  having  settled 
this  point  he  swore  a  little.  Thus  refreshed, 
"  This  is  sheer  impertinence,"  he  stuttered. 

"  It  is,"  the  Exotic  agreed  wearily.  "  Noth- 
ing is  so  unpardonable  socially  as  to  swear  at 
a  total  stranger." 

The  Squire  swore  again,  and  regarded  the 
Exotic  with  something  Hke  horror.  Then  it 
occurred  to  him  that  he  would  gain  little  by 
general  argument,  so  he  went  straight  to  the 
point.  "  Did  you  send  this  boy  to  trespass 
on  my  land  and  poach  my  trout  ?  Answer 
me,  yes  or  no,  sir." 

"  I  never  answer  yes  or  no,"  returned  the 
Exotic,  in  a  tone  of  mild  firmness ;  "  it  is 
foreign  to  all  my  principles,  and  I  was  not 
aware  that  this  was  your  land." 


i64  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

Sacharissa,  despite  her  fears,  could  not  pre- 
vent a  small  smile.  The  Squire  became  con- 
fused. "  Don*t  prevaricate,  sir,'*  he  said, 
stamping  his  foot.  "This  is  not  my  land, 
but  .  .  ." 

The  Exotic  made  a  leisurely  interruption. 
"  Then  what  are  you  doing  on  it  ?  "  His  face 
became  virtuously  pained.  "  Can  it  be  that 
you  are  after   the   trout  ?  " 

The  Squire  became  too  furious  for  connected 
speech,  and  the  Exotic  continued  his  new 
theory  with  growing  interest.  "  I  see  you 
have  brought  a  boy  and  a  fishing  rod."  He 
addressed  the  boy.  "  Is  the  gentleman  trying 
to  persuade  you  to  become  a  poacher  ?  Do 
not  yield ;  be  firm.  You  have  my  moral 
support." 

The  Squire  released  the  boy  and  gasped. 
"Be  calm,"  said  the  Exotic,  who  perceived 
that  matters  were  becoming  rather  critical.  This 
piece  of  advice  only  had  the  eflfect  of  heighten- 
ing the  Squire's  complexion  and  causing  him 
to  clench  his  fists.  "  In  order,"  continued 
the  Exotic,  "  to  illustrate  the  ill  effects  of  un- 
considered anger,  I  will  relate  to  you  a  brief 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  165 

excerpt  from  the  History  of  the  Considerate 
.  .  .  I  shall  kick  if  you  do,"  he  concluded 
abruptly,  for  the  Squire  had  taken  two  steps 
towards  him. 

But  it  is  impossible  to  hit  a  person  effec- 
tively when  he  is  lying  down  on  the  ground, 
and  the  Squire  took  no  more  steps.  "  I  shall 
go  up  to  the  Court,"  he  said  with  determina- 
tion, "  and  find  out  if  it  is  known  that  a  mad- 
man is  loose  on  the  estate."  So  saying  he 
turned  on  his  heel. 

Sacharissa  lo.oked  at  the  Ambassador  with 
round,  frightened  eyes.  "  He  will,"  she  whis- 
pered, "if  you  can't  stop  him." 

The  Ambassador  nodded  quickly  and  ran 
to  the  gate,  vaulting  it  just  as  the  Squire  ap- 
proached. The  Exotic  saw  him,  not  without 
rehef,  and  extended  again  the  right  foot,  which 
he  had  drawn  up  for  the  purpose  of  repelling 
attacks. 

"  What  is  all  this  about  ? "  asked  the  Am- 
bassador of  the  Exotic. 

"  This  gentleman  is  annoyed  about  some- 
thing," he  replied ;  "  perhaps  you  could  find 
out  what  it  is." 


i66  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

The  Ambassador  turned  to  the  Squire.  "  If 
I  can  be  of  any  assistance  .  .  ."  he  began, 
with  a  courteous  inclination. 

The  Squire  could  hardly  command  his 
tongue.  He  muttered  something  about.  "  mad- 
man .   .   .   young  rascal   .   .   .   poaching." 

"  I  fear  I  do  not  quite  understand,"  said  the 
Ambassador. 

The  Squire  was  a  trifle  mollified  by  his  polite 
tone,  and  explained  somewhat  curtly :  "  I  don't 
know  what  business  it  is  of  yours,  but  this 
person  here,"  he  pointed  to  the  Exotic,  who 
smiled  sweetly,  "  has  been  sending  a  boy  to 
fish  in  my  water  and  poach  my  trout.  I  came 
to  get  an  explanation,  but  he  is  evidently  mad." 

The  Ambassador's  eye  compelled  speech 
from  the  Exotic.  "  I  told  the  boy  to  fish," 
he  conceded.  "  1  didn't  tell  him  to  go  out 
of  this  field,  though." 

"Did  you  know  he  had  gone  out  of  it?" 
asked  the  Ambassador. 

"  No,"  said  the  Exotic,  unwillingly. 

"  You  ought  to  have  seen  that  he  did  not," 
said  the  Ambassador.  Then  he  turned  to  the 
Squire.     "  I   think,  sir,  that  it  is  obviously  an 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  167 

accident.  I  am  certain  that  my  friend/'  he 
threw  a  sHght  emphasis  on  the  two  words, 
"  would  not  wittingly  have  caused  the  boy  to 
trespass ;  indeed,  as  you  have  heard,  he  was 
not  aware  that  he  had  done  so.  Probably,  too, 
the  boy  was  not  aware  either."  He  waved 
his  hand  toward  the  other  side  of  the  lane. 
"  I  perceive  you  have  no  notice-board  up. 
But  of  course  we  offer  our  unreserved  apolo- 
gies. I  would  not  have  had  such  a  thing 
happen  for  worlds.  I  disapprove  of  poaching 
as  strongly  as  any  man." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  the  Exotic,  in  his  most  vir- 
tuous manner. 

The  Squire  still  looked  at  him  suspiciously, 
but  to  the  Ambassador  he  was  cordial.  "  Say 
no  more,  sir,"  he  said,  "  that  is  quite  sufficient 
explanation.  I  may  have  been  a  little  hasty, 
but  a  man's  fishing,  you  know  .   .   ." 

"Quite  so,"  said  the  Ambassador;  "it  was 
very  natural.  Had  I  been  in  your  place  I 
should  have  done  just  the  same.  I  can  assure 
you  that  it  shall  not  occur  again." 

The  Squire  got  over  the  gate  and  the  Ambas- 
sador followed  him.     "  I  hope,"  he  said,  "  you 


i68  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

will  not  take  my  friend's  manner  too  seriously. 
He  seems  a  little  eccentric  to  a  stranger.  It 
comes  from  a  prolonged  residence  abroad. 
And  if  I  might  venture  to  suggest  —  a  notice- 
board,  .  .  ."  he  concluded  with  an  expressive 
gesture. 

"  You  are  perfectly  right,"  returned  the 
Squire.  "I  will  see  to  it,  to-morrow.  Good 
day  to  you,  glad  to  have  met  you,"  he  ended, 
as  he  opened  the  gate  leading  into  his  own 
field.  The  Ambassador  raised  his  hat  and 
returned  to  Sacharissa. 

"You  did  it  splendidly,"  she  said  with  much 
approval.  "  I  was  afraid  it  would  be  impos- 
sible, but  you  found  out  the  way  to  manage 
him.  You  can  manage  everyone,"  she  added 
involuntarily. 

"  I  wish  I  could,"  he  returned,  smiling  down 
at  her. 

"  I  think  you  did,"  she  said,  smiling  too,  as 
she  followed  the  suggested  point ;  "  that  first 
day,  you  know." 

"  That  was  not  management,"  said  the  Am- 
bassador, "it  was  a  dispensation  of  Providence." 

"You  must  be  very  much  in  Providence's 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  169 

confidence,  then,"  she  declared.  "  But  we 
ought  to  be  thinking  of  tea  now.  Shall  we 
go  back  ?  Do  you  think  the  others  realise 
that  it  is  tea-time  ?  " 

"  They  are  seldom  deceived  on  that  point," 
he  said.  The  appearance  of  the  Poet  in  front 
of  them  seemed  to  justify  the  remark.  He 
saw  them  and  waited  for  them  to    come    up. 

"  Well,  have  you  caught  many  trout  ? " 
asked   Sacharissa. 

"No,"  he  answered  with  regret.  "A  most 
extraordinary  thing  happened  to  me.  I  could 
not  dobble  because  when  I  had  caught  a  grass- 
hopper I  could  not  find  my  rod,  but  just  now, 
as  I  was  coming  av/ay,  there  it  was  sticking  up 
in  the  grass  by  my  side." 

"  What  were  you  doing  all  the  time,  then  ? " 
she  enquired. 

The  Poet  considered.  "  I  don't  know,"  he 
said  slowly.  "  I  sat  down  under  a  tree  and  I 
wrote  some  verses,  but  what  happened  after 
that,  I   can't  remember." 

"  Did  you  go  to  sleep  ? "  she  suggested. 

The  Poet  looked  bewildered.  "  I  wonder 
if  I  did,"  he  said.     "  I  have  a  sort  of  feeling. 


I70  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

somehow,  as  If  I  had  been  at  the  seaside.  But 
I  cannot  have  been,  surely  ?  *'  He  looked  at  the 
Ambassador  as  if  he  could  enlighten  him  on  the 
point. 

"  Hardly,"  was  the  amused  reply,  and  the 
Poet  withdrew  into  himself  that  he  might 
wrestle  with  his  problem  in  silence. 

At  the  wicket-gate  they  met  the  Mime.  He 
greeted  them  with  satisfaction.  "  I  got  through 
the  whole  scene,"  he  announced. 

"  Did  you  find  your  rod  ? "  asked  the 
Ambassador. 

"  Rod  ?  "  repeated  the  Mime,  in  a  question- 
ing tone.  "  Oh,"  he  went  on,  almost  at  once, 
"  I  lost  it,  didn't  I  ?  No,  I  forgot  all  about 
it.  I  wonder  if  I  ought  to  go  back  and  look 
for  it.  Do  you  think  I  ought  ?  "  he  appealed 
hopefully  to  Sacharissa. 

"  I  shouldn't  worry  about  it  now,"  she  said. 
"  Come  and  have  some  tea  first.  You  can  go 
and  find  it  afterwards  if  it  hasn't  turned  up." 

At  the  door  of  the  arbour  they  found  tea 
quite  ready,  and  as  they  were  taking  their  seats 
the  Major  crossed  the  lawn,  followed  at  a  few 
yards  by  the  Man  of  Truth. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  171 

"  What  luck  ?  "  asked  the  Ambassador,  as 
they  eame  near. 

"  IVe  got  one  more/'  answered  the  Major. 

"  So  have  I,"  said  the  Man  of  Truth.  "  The 
Scribe  has  caught  a  lot  and  thrown  them  all  in 
again.  I  think  he's  a  fool,"  and  with  this 
strong  statement  he  sat  down  decisively. 

The  Scribe  himself  arrived  soon  afterwards 
and  apologised  for  being  late.  He  explained 
that  it  was  not  really  his  fault,  but  the  fault 
of  a  trout  which  had  been  rising  persistently 
for  half  an  hour  and  had  beguiled  him  into 
trying  to  catch  it. 

"  Well,  how  many  did  you  get,  after  all  ? " 
asked  the  Ambassador. 

"  Only  three  or  four  little  things,"  he 
answered,  settling  himself  into  his  chair,  and 
taking  off  his  hat. 

"  Didn't  you  keep  any  ? "  Sacharissa  enquired, 
and  the  Scribe  smiled  as  he  shook  his  head. 

Sacharissa  was  slightly  indignant.  "You 
don't  deserve  any  tea,"  she  said,  as  she  passed 
him  a  cup.  "  I  don't  believe  you  tried  to  win 
the  prize  at  all." 

"You  can  have  no  idea  how  hard  I  tried," 


172  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

he  protested  politely ;  but  she  shook  her  head, 
incredulous. 

"  He  must  have  found  your  rod,"  said  the 
Ambassador  to  the  Mime,  gravely  exchanging 
glances  with  Sacharissa.  The  Exotic  was  cross- 
ing the  lawn,  carrying  two  fishing  rods  and  a 
paper  parcel. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  said  the  newcomer  to 
Sacharissa,  "  but  I  had  an  accident  with  the 
flower-pot  and  it  rolled  into  the  river."  Sach- 
arissa assured  him  that  it  did  not  matter. 
"  I've  found  a  fishing  rod,"  he  announced  gen- 
erally to  the  com.pany. 

"  It's  mine,"  said  the  Mime.  "  Where  did 
you  find  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  on  the  bank,"  he  answered  vaguely, 
"  lying  about." 

"  What  have  you  got  in  that  parcel  ?  "  said 
the  Man  of  Truth,  with  suspicion. 

"  Trout,"  answered  the  Exotic.  "  Very  large 
fish."  He  laid  the  parcel  and  the  rods  on  the 
grass  and  disposed  himself  comfortably  in  his 
chair.  "  There  is  nothing  so  good  as  tea  after 
an  afternoon's  hard  work,"  he  declared,  putting 
his  cup  back  in  the  saucer. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  173 

"You  must  appreciate  it,"  said  the  Ambas- 
sador, slily. 

"  I  do,"  he  replied,  with  great  content  and  a 
look  of  mild  surprise  at  Sacharissa,  whose  eyes 
were  dancing  with  mirth. 


SCENE    IV 

CHAPTER   VIII 

"  I  THINK,"  said  Sacharissa,  when  the  Exotic 
had  finally  refused  a  fourth  cup  of  tea,  "we 
ought  to  inspect  the  catches  now  and  see  who 
has  won." 

The  Man  of  Truth  got  up  with  alacrity  and 
fetched  his  basket,  and  his  example  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  Major.  They  emptied  the  fish 
out  on  to  the  lawn. 

"  Mine  are  bigger,"  said  the  Man  of  Truth. 

They  looked  to  the  Scribe  for  an  opinion. 
He  gazed  thoughtfully  at  the  five  little  trout. 
"  In  quality,"  he  pronounced,  "  there  is  noth- 
ing to  choose  between  the  two  baskets.  Both 
defy  criticism." 

"  But  in  quantity,"  observed  the  Ambassador, 
"the  Major  excels."  The  Major  pulled  his 
moustache  in  a  satisfied  manner. 

17s 


176  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

"  Now  show  yours,"  said  Sacharissa  to  the 
Exotic,  who  rose  with  reasonable  haste  and 
picked  up  his  brown   paper  parcel. 

"  They  must  be  a  good  size,"  said  the  Scribe, 
noting  the  length  of  the  parcel  while  the  Exotic 
struggled  with  a  piece  of  string  that  was  tied 
tightly  round  them. 

"  Where  did  you  get  the  paper  and  string  ?  " 
asked  the  Man  of  Truth. 

"  They  were  given  to  me,"  replied  the 
Exotic,  at  last  overcoming  the  knot.  A  fresh 
layer  of  paper  was  revealed  beneath  the  outer 
covering,  and  out  of  this  he  shook  four  fish, 
which  fell  on  the  grass. 

"  Those  aren't  trout,"  cried  the  Man  of 
Truth,  raising  his  voice  amidst  the  general 
laughter. 

"  Yes,  they  are,"  said  the  Exotic,  eyeing 
them  with  obvious  surprise.  "  They  are  rain- 
bow-trout." 

"  Sea-trout,  perhaps,"  suggested  the  Scribe. 

The  Exotic  looked  at  them  doubtfully. 
"Yes,"  he  said,  "I   meant  sea-trout." 

"  No,  they're  not  sea-trout,"  said  the  Major, 
in  a  decided  tone. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  177 

"  I  think  .  .  ."  the  Exotic  paused  for  inspi- 
ration ..."  I  think  they  must  be  chevens." 
He  looked  round  to  see  if  his  suggestion  found 
favour,  but  encountered  only  incredulous  mer- 
riment. "  They  were  very  difficult  to  catch/' 
he  added,  to  strengthen  his  position. 

"They're  mackerel,"  shouted  the  Man  of 
Truth,  who  had  been  searching  his  memory  to 
find  out  where  he  had  seen  such  fish  before. 

A  look  of  intense  injury  came  over  the 
Exotic's  face.  "He  said  he  had  caught  them 
with  a  worm,"  he  complained,  "  and  I  paid  six- 
pence each  for  them."  He  sighed  deeply  at 
this  revelation  of  human  baseness. 

"  Don't  you  know  a  mackerel  when  you  see 
it  ?  "  asked  the  Ambassador. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Exotic;  "but  I  didn't  see 
these.  They  were  in  the  paper  when  he 
brought  them.  I  could  feel  they  were  fish, 
and  that  there  were  four  of  them,  so  I  didn't 
worry." 

"  Who  brought  them  ?  "  asked  the  Man  of 
Truth. 

"  The  boy,"  answered  the  Exotic,  and  he 
forthwith  became  silent,  paying  no  attention  to 


178  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

the  Man  of  Truth's  enquiry  as  to  the  boy's 
identity. 

Sacharissa  felt  it  was  due  to  the  company 
that  the  matter  should  be  cleared  up,  so  she 
requested  the  Ambassador  to  explain  it.  He 
accordingly  gave  some  account  of  the  Exotic's 
more  barefaced  proceedings,  and  drew  a  vivid 
picture  of  the  three  small  boys  fishing  in  a  row 
under  the  direction  of  the  recumbent  figure  on 
the  mound.  He  also  mentioned  the  fish-cart, 
which  caused  the  Exotic  to  nod  his  head  in 
sad  comprehension. 

"  So  that's  how  he  came  to  find  my  rod," 
said  the  Mime,  when  the  story  was  done.  He 
turned  a  wrathful  gaze  upon  the  Exotic,  who 
attempted  to  justify  himself. 

"You  know  you  didn't  want  it,"  he  pleaded, 
"  and  besides,  I  sent  it  back  afterwards  but  the 
boy  could  not  find  you.  He  returned  the 
Poet's  all  right.  And  now  will  you  give  me 
my  prize,  please  ?  "  He  addressed  himself 
persuasively  to  Sacharissa,  who  shook  her  head, 
laughing. 

"  You  are  incorrigible,"  she  said.  "  I've  a 
good  mind  to  make  you  go  and  catch  four  real 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  179 

trout  all  by  yourself,  and  stay  there  till  you 
do."  The  Exotic's  face  displayed  genuine 
alarm. 

"  The  term  of  his  natural  life,  or  during  the 
Queen's  pleasure,"  the  Scribe  suggested.  He 
asked  the  Ambassador  a  question.  "What 
meaning,  precisely,  does  the  word  'umpire' 
convey  to  you  ?  " 

The  Ambassador  smiled  at  him.  "An  um- 
pire," said  he,  "is  one  who  adjudicates  the 
prize." 

"  A  pleasant  and  not  too  laborious  office," 
commented  the  Scribe,  smihng  in  his  turn. 

The  Ambassador  admitted  it  gracefully. 
"It  seems,  then,"  he  deferred  to  Sacharissa, 
"  that  the  Major  wins.  Pray  accept  my  con- 
gratulations," he  said  pleasantly  to  the  victor, 
who  pulled  his  moustache  with  both  hands, 
and  looked  with  expectation  toward  Sacharissa. 
She  held  out  the  coveted  rosebud  for  his 
acceptance. 

"  Go,  lovely  rose  .  .  ."  murmured  the  Scribe. 
Sacharissa  looked  at  him  quickly,  but  his  face 
was  impassive. 

The   Exotic,  who  was  looking  at  the  little 


i8o  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

basket  of  flowers  from  which  she  had  selected 
the  rosebud,  murmured  something  about  "  con- 
solation prize." 

"  Not  to  you,  anyhow,"  said  the  Man  of 
Truth,  "you  tried  to  cheat." 

Sacharissa  did  not  appear  to  contemplate 
offering  a  prize  to  the  Man  of  Truth,  but  she 
looked  down  at  the  flowers    thoughtfully. 

The  Ambassador  divined  her  thoughts. 
"  The  only  people  who  could  reasonably  put 
in  a  claim,"  he  said,  "  would  be  the  Exotic's 
victims,  who  were  unable  to  fish  because  he 
took  away  their  rods." 

Sacharissa  made  a  little  gesture  of  assent, 
and  the  Ambassador  continued  in  his  best 
judicial  manner,  "  Even  they  should  give  some 
sign  that  they  have  not  passed  their  afternoon 
unprofitably." 

The  Mime  was  ready  at  once.  "  I  can 
recite  my  address  to  the  sea-serpent,"  he  said. 
"  I  know  it  by  heart  now.  O  watery  monster, 
whose  .  .  ."  the  Ambassador  stopped  him  with 
his  hand. 

"  That,  I  fear,  could  hardly  count,"  he  said  ; 
"  and,  besides,  we  have  already  heard  it  before, 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  i8i 

most  of  us."  The  Mime  retired  into  himself 
with  a  look  of  indignant  surprise. 

"  The  poem,"  suggested  Sacharissa. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  it,"  said  the  Ambassador, 
looking  at  the  Poet,  who  had  seemed  abstracted 
ever  since  tea  began.  "  Read  it  to  us,  will 
you  ?  "  he  asked  him. 

The  Poet  roused  himself  from  his  reverie 
and  felt  for  his  notebook.  While  he  was 
searching,  he  said,  "You  know,  I  said  I  felt 
as  if  I  had  been  at  the  seaside."  Sacharissa 
signified  her  remembrance  of  his  words. 
"  Well,  it  has  all  come  back  to  me  now,"  he 
went  on.     "  I  will  tell  you  if  you  like." 

"  Read  the  poem  first  and  tell  the  story 
afterwards,"  the  Ambassador  suggested. 

"  What  did  he  say  about  being  at  the  sea- 
side ?  "  asked  the  Man  of  Truth.  "  He  hasn't 
been  there  for  years,  I  know." 

"  The  extent  of  your  knowledge,"  said  the 
Scribe,  with  crushing  effect,  "can  only  be 
measured  by  your  generosity  in  imparting  it." 
The  Man  of  Truth  became  silent  in  order  to 
think  it  wrathfully  out,  while  the  Poet  read  his 
poem. 


1 82  THE    COURT   OF   SACHARISSA 


To  A  Dead  Grasshopper 

"  To  woo  the  frolic  fancy  of  his  maid 
The  lover  weaves  his  lure  ;  though  full  revealed 
His  simple  guile,  she  strives  not  to  evade, 
Knowing  her  captor  captive  if  she  yield. 
Thou  wert  once  living,  jewel  of  the  mead, 
And  I  did  court  thee  ;  ill  my  chase  has  sped 
For  thou  didst  'scape  and  mock  me  in  my  need, 
And,  being  taken,  art  for  ever  fled. 
'Twas  Sacharissa's  bidding  that  I  strove 
To  win  her  prize  the  emblem  of  herself ; 
And  for  my  toil  here  lies  my  treasure-trove, 
Thy  tiny  broken  body,  insect  elf. 

All  cold,  an  emblem  thou  of  fleeting  pleasure  ! 

Whose  captor  only  sorrow's  depth  shall  measure." 

Sacharissa  was  frankly  bewildered  as  to  the 
Poet's  meaning.  She  looked  round  to  see  if 
she  had  any  companions  in  perplexity,  and  was 
relieved  to  find  that  she  formed  one  of  a  sub- 
stantial majority. 

"  Please  tell  us  the  answer,"  said  the  Exotic, 
who  was  not  so  conscious  as  some  of  the  others 
of  the  profanity  of  probing  the  unintelHgible, 
and  who  thought  it  was  a  riddle.  The  Poet 
saw  no  necessity  for  an  answer  either  to  the 
poem  or  to  the  Exotic. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  183 

"  Do  you  mean,"  demanded  the  Man  of 
Truth,  "  that  the  grasshopper  was  the  prize,  or 
the  emblem,  or  Sacharissa,  or  what  ?  '*  The 
Major's  face  expressed  indignant  horror  at  the 
last  suggestion,  and  he  looked  at  the  unfortu- 
nate Poet  with  the  air  of  a  loaded  cannon. 
The  Ambassador  proved  with  a  wave  of  his 
hand  the  absolute  impossibihty  of  such  a  sug- 
gestion. 

The  Poet  turned  a  face  of  penitence  towards 
Sacharissa ;  it  was  evident  that  somehow  he 
had  wrapped  up  his  point  too  closely.  She 
felt  a  little  compunction,  but  would  not  yield 
her  right  to  be  perplexed.  "  You  have  mixed 
us  up  a  little,  haven't  you  ?  "  she  suggested. 

"  He  can't  have  a  prize  then,  either,"  said 
the  Man  of  Truth,  with  gloomy  satisfaction. 
The  Scribe's  shaft  still  rankled. 

The  Poet  would  not  be  comforted.  He 
tore  the  offending  page  out  of  his  notebook 
and  made  as  if  to  destroy  it. 

"  No,"  said  Sacharissa,  quickly,  "  don't  do 
that,  give  it  to  me."  He  hesitated,  but  she 
held  out  her  hand  with  an  imperious  little 
gesture  and   he  obeyed.     "  I    didn't    mean    it 


1 84  THE    COURT   OF   SACHARISSA 

really,"  she  said,  when  she  had  gained  her  point. 
"  I  shall  keep  it ;  it  is  too  pretty  to  destroy." 
She  elaborately  did  not  notice  the  Scribe,  who 
was  looking  at  her  with  interested  amusement. 

"  And  now,"  she  went  on,  "  tell  us  about 
the  seaside.     Was  it  a  dream  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  it  was,"  said  the  Poet,  "  but  I  am 
not  sure;  it  is  still  so  vivid."  He  shuddered 
a  Httle.  "  I  can  see  it  all  exactly  as  if  it  had 
really  happened."  He  paused  a  moment  to 
collect  his  thoughts.  Then  in  a  low  tone  he 
began  to  speak  dreamily,  as  though  he  had 
forgotten    his   audience. 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL 


The  Poet's  Dream 


"The  last  red  beams  of  the  sinking  sun 
flashed  across  the  waters,  which  mirrored  in 
their  calm  depths  the  brown  sails  of  the  fishing 
smacks  and  the  golden  glories  of  the  evening 
sky.  All  the  village  was  on  the  pier  ;  young 
and  old,  little  children  and  grey-haired  men 
whose  rugged  faces  spoke  of  years  of  batthng 
with  wind  and  storm :  they  were  fisherfolk, 
every  one  of  them,  the  men  clad  in  their  blue 
jerseys  and  breeches  stained  with  paint  and  tar, 
the  women  bareheaded  save  for  gay  kerchiefs 
that  scarce  confined  their  tresses ;  all  were 
busied,  and  they  never  turned  to  mark  me  as 
I  passed  among  them.  Even  though  their 
garments  brushed  against  me,  none  took  heed 
of  it,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  was  as  a  ghost 
who  wanders  among  the  living,  seeing,  but  un- 
seen. It  seemed,  too,  that  I  was  there  for  a 
purpose  that   I   knew   not. 

"  Before  them  lay  a  great  heap  of  fish  whose 
scales  glittered  copper  and  silver  in  the  fiery 
sunlight.  It  was  the  end  of  the  herring  sea- 
son ;    they   sorted  and   frailed   their   catch   for 


1 86  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

the  distant  markets.  I  drew  nearer  and  looked 
on  the  pile.  In  its  midst  a  fish  caught  my 
eye,  a  strange  fish,  unlike  aught  that  I  had  ever 
beheld  or  pictured.  It  was  jet-black,  black 
and  dull,  horned  and  scaleless,  and  on  its  side 
were  grey  markings  that  seemed  like  a  skull. 
And  in  its  shapeless  head  I  saw  two  red  eyes 
that  glowed.  It  was  still  alive,  horribly  and 
evilly  alive. 

"  I  watched  and  wondered,  for  the  fishermen 
came  and  went  but  touched  it  not,  nor  noted  it. 
At  last  one,  a  young  fair-haired  man,  touched  it 
and  muttered  '  a  dead  crab,*  and  as  he  touched 
it  the  eyes  grew  brighter  and  I  wondered  the 
more,  for  it  was  not  what  he  had  said.  But  he 
left  it  and  turned  away,  and  as  he  turned  his  eyes 
encountered  mine,  and  for  a  moment  he  stared 
at  me  in  surprise  ;  then  he  went  across  to  a 
woman  who  stood  near  holding  a  baby  at  her 
breast,  for  she  was  his  v/ife.  He  looked  at  her, 
his  brow  puckered  with  thought,  and  I  knew 
that  a  sudden  fear  had  fallen  upon  him.  But 
in  her  smile  he  forgot  and  turned  again  to  his 
task.  Yet  once  more  he  looked  round  to 
where   I    stood,  as   though    he    were    seeking 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  187 

someone  of  whom  he  might  ask  a  question,  but 
scarce  knew  whom  he  sought. 

"  Then  another  came,  a  man  of  middle  age, 
the  owner  of  a  smack  that  was  moored  hard 
by.  He  too  touched  the  evil  thing  and  said 
'  a  bit  of  driftwood,'  thrusting  it  aside.  And 
again  the  eyes  kindled  and  the  strange  fish 
quivered  with  evil  life.  I  saw  the  man  pause. 
He  turned  to  the  younger  fisherman  who  was 
the  mate  of  his  crew,  and  as  he  turned  he  too 
looked  straight  at  me  and  made  as  though  he 
would  speak.  But  he  passed  his  hand  across 
his  brow  as  if  to  banish  some  thought,  and 
frowned  moodily,  but  uttered  no  word,  return- 
ing to  his  task. 

"  The  heap  grew  less,  but  for  long  no  one 
handled  the  strange  fish  and  none  looked  on  it, 
and  I  knew  that  they  could'  not  behold  the 
thing,  and  I  wondered  yet  more.  But  presently 
four  men  came  up  from  the  smack  and  went 
to  work  sorting  the  catch.  All  of  them 
touched  the  fish,  one  calling  it  a  cork  and  one 
a  piece  of  weed,  but  none  named  it  rightly. 
And  each  in  turn  looked  toward  me  with  a 
question  in    his    eyes,  but    each   turned   again 


1 88  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

silently  to  his  work.  And  when  they  looked 
to  me  the  second  time,  I  knew  that  I  too  was 
unseen,  and  that  I  had  some  message  for  them 
which  I  could  not  speak. 

"Then  all  was  done,  and  the  night  fell.  One 
after  the  other  they  went  away  up  the  cliff  to 
their  homes,  until  I  was  left  alone  with  the  evil 
shape  that  lay  on  the  pier,  its  glowing  eyes 
fixed  on  mine. 

"  It  grew  ever  darker.  Clouds  veiled  the 
stars  and  the  rising  wind  moaned  in  the  hills. 
The  black,  oily  billov/s  heaved  and  sank  sul- 
lenly to  rest,  as  they  lapped  against  the  stones 
of  the  pier,  while  the  cordage  of  the  boats 
creaked  as  they  tugged  at  their  moorings,  for 
the  tide  was  running  swiftly  out. 

"And  the  strange  fish  moved,  and  as  it 
moved  its  shape  seemed  to  change  until  it 
became  a  heart  glowing  dull  red,  and  from 
it  ran  six  crimson  threads  that  floated  through 
the  darkness  to  the  cliff.  And  I  feared,  for 
as  yet  I  knew  not  the  riddle  that  I  should 
rede. 

"  Now  it  was  on  the  edge  of  the  pier,  now  it 
was  in   the  water,  and  now  it   began    to   glide 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  189 

swiftly  below  the  swell,  trailing  behind  the  six 
crimson  threads.  And  though  it  passed  swiftly 
and  far,  it  changed  not  nor  grew  less  to  my 
sight  till  it  reached  a  spot  where  the  smooth 
waves  broke  for  an  instant  into  foam.  And 
it  came  to  me  that  there  out  in  the  bay  a 
sunken  rock  rose  up  jagged  and  deadly.  And 
there  the  thing  sank,  drawing  its  threads  after 
it,  sank  into  the  depths  of  the  water,  and  as  it 
sank  it  grew  dull,  till  only  the  eyes  glowed, 
and  then  I  saw  it  no  more.  And  still  the 
vision  was  hidden  from  me. 

"  I  looked  toward  the  land.  Along  the  pier 
came  the  skipper  and  the  young  fisherman 
who  had  first  marked  me  in  the  press.  They 
were  followed  by  the  four  others  of  the  crew. 
Swiftly  they  came,  but  made  no  sound,  for  they 
were  the  wraiths  of  the  six  men,  wraiths  that 
clothe  the  soul  when  in  the  hour  of  sleep  it 
wanders  from  its  prison. 

"  They  passed  me  and  went  down  into  the 
smack,  and  as  I  v/atched  I  beheld  two  smacks 
that  were  all  for  all  alike,  but  one  rocked  at  its 
moorings  beside  the  pier  while  the  other  stood 
out  to  sea  with  the  spectral  crew  on  its  deck. 


190  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

"  Out  to  sea  It  glided,  out  in  the  track  of 
the  strange  fish,  out  to  where  the  reef  waited 
for  its  prey.  An  instant  it  paused  over  the 
spot  where  the  thing  had  sunk,  and  then  it 
quivered  and  glowed  with  a  pale,  baleful  light, 
and  I  could  see  the  faces  of  the  crew  with  the 
dread  of  death  in  each.  And  then  I  under- 
stood and  knew  the  warning  I  should  have 
given." 

The  Poet  ceased  and  sat  silent,  his  gaze 
fixed  on  something  in  the  distance.  Sacharissa, 
who  had  been  listening  intently,  her  chin  lean- 
ing on  her  hand,  after  a  long  silence  roused 
herself  with  an  efifort.  She  took  a  red  rose 
from  the  little  basket  and  gave  it  to  the 
Poet  without  speaking,  looking  at  him  with 
serious  eyes. 

This  broke  the  spell,  and  the  Man  of 
Truth  spoke.  "  If  you  were  asleep,  of  course 
you  could  not  have  warned  them." 

"  An  ironical  position,"  observed  the  Scribe 
to  the  Poet. 

"  Yes,"  he  agreed  sadly.  "  There  I  stood, 
having  the  knowledge  and  unable  to  tell  what 
I  knew." 


A   MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  191 

"  You  had  a  side  glimpse  into  the  workings 
of  fate,"  the  Ambassador  said. 

Sacharissa  shuddered  ;  womanhke,  she  was 
in  open  rebelhon  against  fate  at  once.  "  Per- 
haps he  could  give  his  warning  still,"  she  said. 
"  Did  you  seem  to  know  the  scene  ? "  she 
asked  the  Poet. 

He  shook  his  head.  "  No,  I  have  never 
been  there  before." 

"  But  you  would  know  it  if  you  saw  it 
again  ?  "  she  persisted.  "  Then  I  think  you 
ought  to  try  and  find  it,  and  not  rest  till  you 
have  given  your  warning." 

The  Major  was  looking  bewildered.  "  It 
was  only  a  dream,"  he  said  seriously ;  "  and 
anyhow,  if  people  have  got  to  die,  they  have. 
We  can't  help  it.  Duty  is  duty,"  he  added  as 
a  soldier's  apology  for  speaking  of  grave  topics. 

"  But  his  duty  is  to  try  and  avert  the  mis- 
fortune," she  insisted. 

"I  think  the  Major  is  right,"  said  the 
Ambassador.  "He  has  given  all  the  warning 
that  fate  allows,  and  even  supposing  that  he 
did  find  the  village  and  the  men,  what  could 
he  do?" 


192  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

"  He  could  tell  them  his  dream/'  she  said. 

"  I  doubt  if  they  would  listen  to  him/' 
the  Ambassador  answered.  "  And  even  if 
he  did  obtain  a  hearing,  knowledge  will  not 
avert  or  retard  destiny.  The  men  are  fisher- 
folk.  They  would  continue  to  put  out  to 
sea  as  before,  and  one  day  they  would 
not  return.  The  only  difference  would  be 
that  the  rest  of  their  lives  would  be  made 
heavy  with  the  burden  of  an  ever-present  fear." 

The  Man  of  Truth  was  getting  restive, 
the  conversation  was  trampling  heedlessly 
upon  his  convictions.  "  Dreams  don't  mean 
anything/'  he  asserted  in  an  argumentative 
manner. 

"  You  speak  from  experience  ?  "  suggested 
the  Scribe. 

"  I've  often  had  dreams,"  he  returned  in 
an  injured  tone,  "  vivid  ones,  and  they  never 
meant  anything." 

"  I  don't  think  they  mean  anything  either/' 
said  the  Major. 

"  I  daresay  a  good  deal  depends  on  the 
dreamer,"   the   Scribe   admitted  politely. 

Sacharissa  gave  her   head  a  little  shake,  as 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  193 

though  to  banish  the  melancholy  induced  by 
the  Poet's  story,  and  looked  round  for  some- 
thing to  take  its  place.  Her  eyes  fell  on 
the  Exotic,  who  had  been  listening  through- 
out in  solemn  silence.  At  this  moment  he 
wore  an  anxious  expression.  She  looked  at 
him  interrogatively. 

"Yes,  I  have  dreams,  too,"  he  admitted, 
"  and  the  story  brought  back  to  my  memory 
one  I  had  a  few  nights  ago."  He  gave  a 
good  imitation  of  the  Poet's  shudder.  "  I 
hope  I  shan't  have  it  again,"  he  said  earnestly. 

"  What  was  it  ?  "  asked  Sacharissa. 


194  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

The  Exotic's  Dream 

"  It  was  close  to  the  hour  of  midnight/* 
began  the  Exotic,  impressively,  "  and  I  stood 
alone  and  yet  not  alone  amid  the  serried 
throng.  Opposite  to  me  flared  the  unearthly 
lights  of  the  Criterion.  Past  me  hurried 
carriages  and  cabs  taking  the  world  of  fashion 
and  beauty  back  from  its  theatre,  forth  to 
its  dance.  It  Vv^as  strange  to  feel  that  I  had 
no  part  in  these  things,  that  I  was  but  some 
astral  body  through  whom  the  unthinking 
mob  might  pass  at  pleasure,  a  shade,  a  thing 
of  nought."  The  Exotic's  voice  became 
slightly  tremulous  with  self-pity.  "  But  I 
stood  and  watched.  Then  on  a  sudden  fear 
seized  me,  fear  of  something  I  knew  not.  I 
turned  and  sped  away  up  Regent  Street,  past 
the  Cafe  Royal,  past  Liberty's,  past  all  the 
spots  I  knew  in  life,  recking  not  of  aught  save 
that  behind  me  was  some  terror  from  which  I 
must  fly.  Breathless  I  reached  Oxford  Circus 
and  plunged  madly  across,  hoping  that  in  Lang- 
ham  Place  I  should  rid  me  of  my  unseen  but 
implacable   foe.      But  no,  fear  came  upon  me 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  195 

worse  than  ever,  and  I  stumbled  on  until  I 
could  go  no  farther.  I  saw  that  I  had 
reached  the  Queen's  Hall,  and  completely  ex- 
hausted I  sank  down  in  one  of  its  dark  en- 
trances. Hardly  had  I  done  so  when  opposite 
to  me  I  saw  the  thing  that  pursued  me  —  a  pale 
figure  with  features  set  in  stony  vengeance. 
In  its  hand  it  held  something  with  which,  I 
could  see,  it  sought  my  Hfe.  I  tried  to  cry 
out  but  my  tongue  was  tied,  and  then  .  .  ." 
the  Exotic  paused. 

"  And  then  ? "  asked  the  Poet,  who  had 
been  listening  with  interest. 

"  And  then  I  woke  up,"  said  the  Exotic, 
with  relief 

"  So  you  don't  know  what  happened,  after 
all  ?  "  asked  Sacharissa,  disappointed. 

"  No,  but  I  can  guess,"  said  the  Exotic, 
darkly.  "  I  recognised  the  figure  and  the 
thing  in  its  hand."  The  Ambassador  and 
the  Scribe  exchanged  a  glance,  but  the  others 
were  all  hanging  on  the  Exotic's  lips. 

"It  was,"  said  the  Exotic,  slowly  and  dis- 
tinctly, "  the  wraith  of  the  Conscientious 
Curate,  and  in  its  hand  was  the  wraith  of  the 
Superfluous   Umbrella." 


SCENE   V 


SCENE   V 

CHAPTER  IX 

The  Major  wore  an  expression  of  severe 
concentration  as  he  sat  bolt  upright  and 
looked  at  Sacharissa.  She  was  leaning  back 
in  her  chair  with  the  shady  hat  which  she  had 
taken  off  in  her  lap,  and  her  eyes  turned  in 
the  direction  of  the  rosary.  The  Major  pulled 
his  moustache  with  his  left  hand ;  he  evidently 
had  something  on  his  mind. 

"  I  hope  they  will  get  here  before  the  storm 
begins,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  they'll  be  here  all  right,"  he  answered 
without  conviction. 

"  They  must  be  quick  then."  She  looked 
apprehensively  at  the  banks  of  sullen  cloud 
rolling  up  from  the  north.  A  sudden  gust 
of  wind  swept  through  the  tree-tops  and  died. 

"They'll  be  all  right."  The  Major's 
anxiety,  though  real  enough,  was  not  on  their 

199 


200  THE    COURT    OF    SACHARISSA 

account.  "  And  besides,  there  was  something 
I  wanted  to  say  before  they  came."  His 
brows  were  set,  as  of  a  man  who  goes  out  to 
battle. 

Sacharissa  gave  a  httle  exclamation  as  a  long 
peal  of  thunder  rumbled  among  the  distant 
hills.  "  Oh,  it's  getting  nearer,"  she  said, 
sitting  up  suddenly.  Her  nerves  were  vibrat- 
ing like  a  sensitive  instrument  under  the  elec- 
tric influence  of  the  great  clouds. 

Electricity  had  no  effect  on  the  Major,  who 
continued  his  train  of  thought.  "  I  expect 
youVe  noticed  ...  I  mean  Fm  not  much 
good  at  this  sort  of  thing,  but  I  want  to  tell 
you  .  .  . 

He  was  unfortunate  in  his  choice  of  an 
occasion.  Sacharissa's  attention,  divided  be- 
fore, was  now  wholly  distracted  by  a  vivid 
flash  of  lightning  which  seemed  to  pierce  the 
heart  of  the  leaden  sky.  "  Oh  !  "  she  cried, 
and  she  held  her  breath  to  count  the  seconds. 

"  It's  miles  away,"  said  the  Major,  after 
several  had  elapsed,  but  he  spoke  to  unheed- 
ing ears.  She  jumped  up  as  the  answering 
peal  began. 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  201 

"We  must  put  the  chairs  into  the  summer- 
house,"  she  said.  "  Here  they  are,"  she  added 
with  some  relief  as  a  figure  appeared  on  the 
lawn.  "  It  is  the  Exotic."  She  looked  again. 
"  I  do  believe  he  is  running."  In  spite  of  her 
nerves  she  gave  a  little  laugh. 

The  Major's  reply  was  unintelligible,  and 
he  lifted  chairs  with  a  strong,  indignant  hand. 
Sacharissa  had  done  the  Exotic  less  than 
justice  ;  he  was  certainly  moving  with  haste, 
but  he  was  hardly  running.  He  reached 
them  in  rather  a  breathless  condition.  "  I 
ran,"  he  explained.  "  The  weather  is  going  to 
be  very  unpleasant.  They  are  just  behind," 
he  added  in  answer  to  her  look  of  enquiry. 
Three  figures  appeared  on  the  lawn  as  he 
spoke. 

The  first  heavy  drop  of  rain  fell  on  Sacha- 
rissa's  hand,  and  the  thunder  rumbled  again 
in  the  hills.  She  prepared  for  instant  flight. 
"  Come  along  up  to  the  house,"  she  called 
out  to  the  newcomers.  She  led  the  way 
swiftly  across  the  lawn,  up  a  little  path  which 
ran  between  thick  clumps  of  laurel,  and  over 
the   broad   sweep  of  gravel   before  the  house. 


202  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

The  front  door  was  open  and  they  followed 
her  in. 

"Just  in  time/'  she  said  breathlessly,  look- 
ing back  on  the  drive.  The  rain  had  begun 
in  earnest  now,  and  the  great  drops  spattered 
on  the  dry  gravel  like  miniature  shells. 

"  You  are  not  all  here,"  she  said,  now  that 
there  was  leisure  for  greetings,  noting  that  the 
Ambassador  and  the  Scribe  were  absent. 

"  The  Ambassador  stopped  in  the  village 
to  send  a  telegram,''  explained  the  Man  of 
Truth ;  "  they  won't  be  long." 

"  They  will  get  drenched,"  said  Sacharissa, 
feelingly. 

"  Oh,  they'll  wait  till  the  worst  is  over,  and 
besides  they've  got  waterproofs,"  he  assured 
her. 

Sacharissa  opened  the  door  leading  into  the 
inner  hall.  "  We  must  try  and  make  our- 
selves comfortable  here,"  she  said,  looking 
round.  "  I  think  there  are  enough  big 
chairs." 

They  surveyed  the  hall  with  appreciation. 
The  diamond  panes  of  a  great  window  cased 
in  black  oak  looked  out  upon  the  drive.     On 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  203 

the  polished  floor  were  strewn  thick  soft  rugs 
whose  rich  colours,  blending  in  the  subdued 
light,  merged  into  a  deep  red.  A  spacious 
open  fireplace  in  an  ancient  frame  of  carved 
oak  with  panels  of  burnished  copper  displayed 
logs  laid  ready  for  kindling,  and  fronted  the 
broad  staircase  which  led  away  to  the  upper 
part  of  the  house.  The  eyes  of  pictured 
cavaliers  and  old-time  ladies  looked  down 
from  the  panelled  walls  upon  the  easy-chairs, 
revolving  bookcases,  and  low  tables  which  were 
scattered  about  seductively,  a  charmed  circle  of 
comfort  and  leisured  repose  ;  looked  down,  too, 
as  it  seemed  half  curiously,  upon  the  intruders. 
The  Exotic  made  his  unerring  way  to  the 
most  comfortable  chair  in  the  hall,  and  sat 
down  promptly,  without  regard  to  the  fact 
that  the  Major  was  also  moving  towards  it. 
Sacharissa  had  seated  herself  in  the  corner  of 
an  oaken  settle  placed  at  right  angles  to  the 
fireplace.  Her  face  was  a  little  pale,  and  it 
was  with  something  of  an  effort  that  she  sug- 
gested a  disposition  of  the  chairs.  The  Major 
hesitated;  there  was  plenty  of  room  for  another 
person  on  the  settle,  but  it  had  a  straight  back. 


204  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

He  compromised,  and  drawing  a  chair  as  near 
to  it  as  possible,  sat  down  solemnly. 

Sacharissa  opened  conversation  by  calling 
attention  to  the  inclemency  of  the  weather. 
The  Man  of  Truth  unreservedly  voiced  the 
general  silence  of  assent.  Next  she  repeated 
her  fears  that  the  other  two  would  get 
drenched,  and  the  Man  of  Truth  again  com- 
forted her  by  eulogising  the  quality  of  their 
mackintoshes.  The  lashing  of  the  rain  on 
the  gravel  outside  and  from  time  to  time 
the  rolling  of  the  distant  thunder  tolled  the 
knell  of  the  dialogue.  Sacharissa  roused 
herself  and  looked  round  for  a  new  idea. 
Her  gaze  fell  on  the  Exotic,  who  was  lying 
back  in  his  chair  gazing  at  the  logs  in  the 
fireplace  with  a  face  of  profound  melan- 
choly. 

"You  don't  seem   happy,"  she  observed. 

"  Life  is  hollov/,"  he  returned  with  a  shiver. 
She  was  surprised ;  this  phase  of  the  Exotic 
was  new. 

"  It  isn't,"  said  the  Man  of  Truth.  "  That's 
a  good  flash,"  he  added,  as  the  hall  was  lighted 
up  for  an  instant. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  205 

"  Life  is  hollow/'  persisted  the  Exotic,  "  and 
we  are  vain  delusions  of  a  dream." 

Sacharissa  looked  round  for  aid.  She  did 
not  know  what  to  do  with  the  Exotic  in  this 
mood.      But  the  Ambassador  was  far  away. 

"  It  is  very  hollow,"  he  continued ;  "  all 
things  are  vain." 

The  Mime  caught  the  infection  of  melan- 
choly, and  fell  naturally  into  his  part.  "  The 
time  is  out  of  joint.  O  cursed  spite,"  he  quoted 
dolorously.  The  Poet  gave  a  heavy  sigh.  His 
sympathies  were  awakened,  and  he  too  felt  sad. 

Sacharissa  looked  at  the  Major,  who  shook 
his  head  to  intimate  that  he  did  not  understand 
it  at  all,  and  then  at  the  Man  of  Truth,  who 
alone  preserved  his  cheerfulness,  but  did  not 
know  what  to  do  with  it.  He  called  attention 
to  another  flash  of  lightning,  which  did  not 
comfort  anybody. 

"  A  vale  of  misery,"  complained  the  Exotic. 

"Weary,  flat,  stale,  and  unprofitable," 
groaned    the    Mime. 

"  Oh,  for  one  united  abnegation,"  sighed  the 
Poet.  They  all  sighed  in  chorus.  A  loud 
crack   of  thunder  succeeded  these    depressing 


2o6  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

utterances,  and  the  roll  which  followed  seemed 
to  shake  the  house. 

"  As  the  sparks  fly  upward,  so  is  man  born 
to  sorrow,"  said  the  Exotic. 

"  The  best  of  things  is  not  to  have  been 
born  at  all,"  wailed  the   Mime. 

"  Or  being  born,  at  once  to  die,"  the  Poet 
moaned.  They  all  sighed  again.  The  Man 
of  Truth  remarked  that  it  was  a  reasonably 
heavy  storm,  as  another  flash  lighted  up  the 
wan  faces  of  the  three. 

Sacharissa  looked  an  imperious  appeal  at  the 
Major,  who  did  his  best.  "Do  you  hunt?"  he 
asked  the  Poet,  who  paid  not  the  least  atten- 
tion, but  sighed  yet  again. 

"  The  cigarette-box,  quick,"  she  whispered 
to  the  Major,  pointing  to  a  table  behind  him. 
He  rose  and  fetched  it.  "Hand  it  to  them," 
she  entreated.  He  hurried  round  with  it.  The 
Man  of  Truth  took  a  cigarette  calmly. 

As  he  lighted  it  he  said  to  Sacharissa : 
"  We  can't  do  anything  with  them  when  they're 
like  this,  you  know.      It's  the  weather." 

The  others  waved  away  the  cigarette-box  with 
pessimism.      "All    delights    are    hollow,"    ex- 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  207 

plained  the  Exotic,  and  his  companions 
groaned  sad  assent. 

Sacharissa  was  not  far  from  tears  herself 
now,  the  atmosphere  was  so  very  depressing. 
With  set  face  she  kept  her  eyes  on  the  door. 
The  Major  looked  at  her  in  consternation,  and 
then  at  the  melancholy  trio  in  disgust.  It 
passed  his   experience. 

There  was  another  vivid  flash  of  lightning, 
followed  by  a  groan  from  the  three  arm-chairs, 
and  a  shudder  from  Sacharissa,  and  then  — 
blessed  sound  —  by  a  ring  at  the  front  door- 
bell. With  a  little  sigh  of  relief,  that  was 
almost  a  sob,  she  jumped  up  and  ran  into  the 
outer  hall.  The  opening  of  the  door  revealed 
the  figures  of  the  Ambassador  and  the  Scribe 
clad  in  long  mackintoshes  glistening  with 
wet. 

The  Ambassador  marked  the  trouble  in  her 
face,  and  the  signs  of  unshed  tears.  His  glance 
was  eloquent  of  tender  enquiry.  "  I  am  so 
glad  you've  come,'*  she  said.  "  I  don't  know 
what  to  do  with  them.  I've  never  seen  people 
so  unhappy,  and  I  can't  think  what  it  is  all 
about." 


2o8  THE    COURT    OF    SACHARISSA 

"  Did  the  Exotic  begin  it  ?  "  asked  the 
Scribe.     She   nodded. 

"  I  thought  so,"  he  commented.  "  He 
always  dalHes  with  the  idea  of  suicide  when 
it  rains." 

"What  can  I  do  to  stop  it  .^ "  she  asked, 
looking  up  at  them. 

"  Can  you  have  a  fire  lighted  ?  "  asked  the 
Ambassador  in  return.  She  nodded  again  more 
hopefully. 

"  He  will  be  all  right,  then,"  he  assured  her. 

"  It's  his  way  of  asking  for  it,"  explained  the 
Scribe,  smiling. 

A  loud,  concerted  groan,  in  which,  from  the 
expression  of  his  face,  even  the  Major  might 
have  joined,  greeted  them  as  they  entered  the 
hall. 

"A  sad  world,  my  masters,"  said  the  Scribe, 
cheerfully,  as  he  drew  a  chair  towards  the  fire- 
place. 

Sacharissa  rang  a  bell  and  sat  down  again  in 
the  corner  of  the  settle.  The  Ambassador, 
after  a  stern  glance  at  the  delinquents,  which 
effectually  stopped  any  more  outward  manifes- 
tations of  misery,  sat  down  in  the  other  corner 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL 


209 


of  the  settle.  The  Major's  face  showed  that 
he  regretted  his  precipitate  choice  of  a  chair. 
Sacharissa  charged  a  servant,  who  answered  the 
bell,  to  see  to  the  kindling  of  a  fire,  and  before 
long  a  pleasant  glow  answered  the  crackling  of 
the  dry  sticks. 

Hope  entered  the  Exotic's  soul  once  more, 
and  he  gazed  at  the  flames  with  a  face  that  ex- 
pressed almost  incredulous  surprise  at  finding 
that  the  world  still  contained  some  fragment 
of  pleasure,  an  expression  that  gradually  mel- 
lowed into  one  of  placid  content.  "  Please, 
may  I  have  a  cigarette  ?  "  he  asked  plaintively, 
as  though  he  had  been  very  much  neglected. 
The  Mime,  who  perceived  that  the  act  was 
over,  preferred  the  same  request,  but  the  Poet 
remained  lost  in  melancholy  abstraction. 

"  You  must  not  be  surprised  if  he  becomes 
very  cheerful  now,"  said  the  Ambassador  to 
Sacharissa  in  a  low  tone. 

"  I  don't  think  I  could  be  surprised  at  any- 
thing he  did  after  this,"  she  returned  confiden- 
tially. 

The  Exotic  exhaled  a  mouthful  of  smoke 
with  great  satisfaction.     "  I  saw  such  a  funny 


2IO  THE    COURT    OF    SACHARISSA 

thing  the  other  day,"  he  announced  presently, 
beaming  on  Sacharissa.  "  I  saw  two  people 
shaking  hands,  and  one  of  them  had  a  face 
like  a  melon  and  the  other  a  face  like  a  cocoa- 
nut  ;  and  yet  they  seemed  pleased  to  see  each 
other."  The  Exotic  shook  his  head  amiably 
as  who  should  say  the  world  is  full  of  pleasant 
surprises. 

"  Why  shouldn't  they  be  pleased  ?  "  asked 
the  Man  of  Truth. 

"  There  was  every  reason  why  they  should 
be,"  remarked  the  Scribe. 

Sacharissa  was  a  little  puzzled,  but  she  was 
too  much  relieved  by  the  lighter  turn  in  the 
conversation  to  be  very  anxious  as  to  the 
Exotic's  meaning.  She  turned  to  the  Ambas- 
sador. "  How  are  you  going  to  amuse  me 
this  afternoon  ?  "  she  asked. 

Before  he  could  make  any  suggestion  the 
Exotic  was  off  again.  "  It  seems  a  good 
opportunity,"  he  began,  "  for  me  to  narrate 
the  History  of  the  Con-"  the  Man  of  Truth 
broke  in  impatiently  with  a  rude  remark  con- 
cerning a  branch  of  the  Ottoman  Empire. 
"  Considerable    Carrot,    I   was   about  to   say," 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  211 

continued  the  Exotic,  with  dignity,  "  but  since 
no  one  seems  to  favour  the  idea,  I  will  re- 
frain." 

Sacharissa  laughed  and  asked  the  Exotic  to 
review  his  decision,  but  he  was  firm.  The 
Man  of  Truth  announced  his  belief  that  there 
was  no  such  story. 

"  That  should  not  prevent  the  Exotic  from 
telling  it,"  the  Scribe  reminded  him. 

After  much  pressing,  however,  the  Exotic 
consented  to  tell  a  story,  though  not  the  one 
he  had  mentioned.  "  I  will  relate,"  he  said, 
"the  History  of  the  Lovely  Princess  and  her 
Suitors,  the  Six  Handsome  Princes  who  came 
from  a  Distance."  Sacharissa  was  about  to 
applaud  this  idea,  when  the  Ambassador  by 
force  of  will-power  compelled  the  Exotic  to 
look  up  and  catch  his  eye. 

"  I  will  relate,"  continued  the  Exotic,  "  the 
History  of  the  Handsome  Prince  and  his 
Suitors,  the  Six  Lovely  Princesses  who  came 
from  a  Distance."  Sacharissa  looked  at  the 
Ambassador,  who  shook  his  head  with  a  little 
smile  to  explain  that  the  Exotic*s  mental 
vagaries  were  beyond  his  control. 


212  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

"  Thus,"  the  Exotic  went  on,  "  runs 

"  The  Tale  of  the   First  Princess 

"  The  Prince,  though  past  the  years  of  first 
and  foolish  youth,  yet  retained  his  ideals  ;  he 
adored  the  beautiful  and  dreamed  of  realising 
the  possibilities  of  romance.  His  slaves,  four 
stalwart  Nubians,  living  statues  of  ebony,  were 
wont  to  carry  him  in  his  cushioned  litter  to  a 
luxuriant  arbour  in  his  palace  gardens  where, 
by  a  fountain  of  limpid  water,  remote  from  the 
world,  he  contemplated  the  infinite,  leaving  his 
wars  to  rude  generals  and  hired  mercenaries, 
the  administration  of  his  realms  to  sordid  min- 
isters and  routine-bound  officials,  for  he  con- 
ceived it  his  duty  to  set  his  people  the  most 
edifying  of  examples  by  living  the  life  of  a 
philosopher  in  untroubled  seclusion. 

"  But  on  a  day  the  impudent  petal  of  a  lily 
fell  and  sullied  the  pure  mirror  of  the  pool. 
The  Prince  started,  and  looked  up.  Before 
him  stood  the  chief  of  his  ministers,  who 
exhibited  signs  of  acute  discomposure.  The 
Prince  mutely  signified  his  astonishment  at 
such  an  intrusion,  ^  Sire,'  pleaded  the  Minister, 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  213 

'  without  wait  the  Six  Lovely  Princesses.' 
'  ¥/hat  six  lovely  princesses  ?  *  was  the 
Prince's  look.  '  The  Six  Lovely  Princesses 
who  have  come  from  a  Distance/  the  Minister 
added.  The  Prince  shuddered.  A  grim 
spectre  rose  up  before  him,  the  spectre  of  Im- 
pending Matrimony.  Nevertheless,  being  both 
a  philosopher  and  a  man,  he  hesitated  not ; 
with  a  fearless  gesture  he  waved  his  hand  to 
indicate  that  they  were  dismissed."- 

The  Exotic  stopped,  lay  back  in  his  chair, 
and  stretched  out  his  hand  for  the  cigarette- 
box.  It  began  to  be  evident  that  he  thought 
he  had  finished  the  story. 

This,  however,  could  not  be  suffered ;  there 
was  Sacharissa  to  be  considered.  The  Ambas- 
sador removed  the  cigarette-box  out  of  his 
reach.  "  When  you  have  finished,"  he  said 
with  decision. 

"  And  you  have  six  lovely  princesses,"  the 
Scribe  reminded  him. 

"  Yes,  and  I  want  to  know  all  about  all  of 
them,"  said  Sacharissa,  who  had  not  quite 
comprehended  the  narrator's  intention. 

The  Exotic  resignedly  began  anew.     "  With 


214  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

the  misguided  persistence  of  the  obtuse,  the 
Minister  reiterated  the  distasteful  intelligence 
—  distasteful  of  course,"  the  Exotic  explained, 
seeing  some  signs  of  reproof  in  Sacharissa's 
face,  "  only  because  of  the  fact  of  their  arrival." 
Sacharissa's  look  of  reproof  softened  to  bewil- 
derment, and  he  went  on  hurriedly  :  "  Further, 
the  Minister  went  into  the  matter  at  greater 
length,  expatiating  on  the  advantages  of  matri- 
mony in  general,  and  on  the  eligibility  of  the 
newly  arrived  Suitors  in  particular,  enlarging 
on  their  unparalleled  excellencies  of  beauty, 
birth,  and  fortune,  and  finally  producing  six 
miniatures  which  he  submitted  for  his  master's 
inspection.  They  represented,  indeed,  six 
types  of  beauty  faithfully  immortalised  by  six 
practised  court  artists.  The  Prince  yawned  — 
the  difficulty  of  selection  threatened  to  become 
an  invidious  weariness.  Finally,  the  task  prov- 
ing too  arduous,  and  another  ministerial  dis- 
course seeming  imminent,  he  settled  the  matter 
by  composing  himself  to  slumber."  The  Ex- 
otic himself  yawned  in  sympathy  for  his  hero. 
"  He  did  what  ^  "  exclaimed  Sacharissa,  in- 
credulously. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  215 

"  He  sought  inspiration  in  dreams,"  the 
Exotic  explained,  "  for  he  hoped  that  to  his 
sleeping  eye  the  vision  of  the  beloved  might 
be  vouchsafed."  The  Poet  nodded  sagely, 
and  Sacharissa  seemed  appeased. 

"  He  woke  up  just  in  time  for  tea,"  the 
story  continued,  "  which  was  brought  to  him 
in  a  richly  jewelled  cup.  He  was  relieved  to 
hear  that  the  Six  Lovely  Princesses  had  been 
appropriately  lodged,  and  that  each  several  one 
was  now  engaged  in  admiring  his  portrait,  of 
which  six  duplicates  had  been  prepared  by  the 
Lord  High  Beautifier.  This  title,"  he  ex- 
plained in  deference  to  the  Major's  look  of 
astonishment,  "  had  been  conferred  on  the  court 
photographer  as  a  slight  recognition  of  his 
skill  in  making  the  likeness  of  a  sitter  ap- 
proximate to  the  ideal  in  a  manner  delicately 
proportioned  to  the  amount  of  remuneration 
suggested. 

"  The  Prince  beheld  the  Minister  approach- 
ing afar  off.  Doubtless  the  Six  Lovely  Prin- 
cesses were  becoming  impatient.  Willing, 
however,  even  at  some  sacrifice  to  his  own 
convenience,  to  assist  their  perplexity,  he  signed 


21 6  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

to  an  attendant,  who  replaced  the  teacup  on 
the  back  of  a  kneehng  slave,  and  then  to  the 
waiting  Nubians  who  approached  with  his  lit- 
ter. He  entered  it  and  was  swiftly  borne  to 
the  other  end  of  the  garden  and  through  a 
postern  gate  which  he  caused  to  be  locked 
behind  him.  Then  he  repaired  to  a  meadow 
by  the  river  which  watered  his  capital.  Here 
under  a  spreading  palm  he  reclined,  dismissing 
the  slaves,  and,  the  better  to  meditate  on  the 
problem  before  him,  he  once  more  betook 
himself  to  the  realms  of  slumber."  The 
Exotic  looked  plaintively  at  the  cigarette-box, 
which  was  still  out  of  his  reach. 

"  I  thought  you  said  this  was  the  Tale  of  the 
First  Princess,"  said  the  Man  of  Truth  in  an 
aggrieved  tone. 

"  I  think  the  Prince  is  not  quite  a  stranger," 
was  Sacharissa's  little  shaft. 

"  He  dreamed,"  continued  the  Exotic  with 
a  gratified  smile  :  "  the  red  sand  of  the  Syrian 
desert  unrolled  itself  before  his  inner  vision, 
stretching  into  dim  infinity.  The  heated  air 
quivered  as  it  rose,  distorting  the  proportions 
of  a  distant  cam  .  .  ." 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  217 

"  Perhaps  he  had  better  be  allowed  a  ciga- 
rette," said  the  Ambassador,  holding  out  the 
box. 

The  Exotic  took  one  and  lighted  it  and 
continued  between  his  puffs  :  "  But  the  vision 
faded,  and  he  awoke  —  awoke  to  find  that 
what  he  had  mistaken  for  the  careful  Bactrian 
was  but  the  approaching  figure  of  the  First 
Princess." 

"  What  a  very  dreadful  comparison  !  "  ex- 
claimed Sacharissa. 

"  She  was  a  fine,  upstanding  young  woman," 
he  continued  in  self-defence,  reducing  Sacha- 
rissa to  speechless  protest. 

"  She  knew  him  at  once,"  the  Exotic  pur- 
sued, "and  she  began  to  talk."  The  Exotic 
took  a  deep  breath.  "  She  said  she  was  glad 
she  had  found  him,  and  that  it  was  a  fine  day, 
just  the  kind  of  day  for  a  good,  long  walk. 
The  Prince  signified  that  she  might  be  seated. 
She  obeyed,  but  the  flow  of  her  remarks  con- 
tinued unchecked.  She  said  that  she  had  only 
just  heard  of  him  that  morning,  after  she  had 
had  her  swim,  that  she  had  hurried  back  to 
breakfast,  sent  a  telegram  to  say  she  was  com- 


21 8  THE    COURT    OF    SACHARISSA 

ing,  done  half  her  packing  herself  because  no 
one  else  could  do  it  quick  enough,  saddled  her 
own  horse,  and  ridden  on,  telling  her  retinue 
to  follow,  ^  and  then  I  saw  that  stupid  Minis- 
ter, and  he  showed  me  your  photograph,  and 
I  thought  it  perfectly  lovely,  and  I  hurried  off 
to  the  palace,  where  they  said  you  were  busy 
with  State  affairs  ;  but  I  followed  on  after  him, 
and  I  found  you  were  just  gone,  so  I  came 
after  you,  but  the  silly  gate  was  locked,  so  I 
jumped  over  it,  and  spent  quite  a  long  time 
looking  for  you  because  I  went  the  wrong 
way,  but  I've  found  you  at  last,  and  here  you 
are  ! '  "     The  Exotic  gasped. 

"  Do  you  recognise  the  First  Princess  ? " 
asked  the  Scribe,  slily. 

"  No,'*  laughed  Sacharissa,  with  a  decided 
shake  of  her  head. 

"  The  Prince  shuddered,"  continued  the 
Exotic,  "and  closed  his  eyes  wearily,  while 
the  First  Princess  pursued  her  observations. 
^  There  are  a  lot  of  other  women  there.  I 
suppose  they're  princesses  too,  but  I  don't 
think  much  of  them,  they're  all  helpless  crea- 
tures, and  they've  got  a  lot  of  people  to  look 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  219 

after  them,  and  they  won't  come  out  in  the 
sun  because  they're  afraid  of  their  complexions, 
and  they  all  look  as  jealous  of  each  other  as 
they  ever  can  be,  but  I  didn't  pay  any  atten- 
tion to  them,  so  I  left  them  and  came  away, 
and  here  I  am  ! '  The  Prince  shuddered  in 
his  sleep,  and  the  Princess  went  on  with  her 
monologue.  '  And  when  we're  married  I'll 
tell  you  what  we'll  do ;  we'll  get  up  at  five, 
and  you  shall  go  for  a  swim,  and  the  Minister 
and  I  will  do  all  the  State  business,  and  what 
I  can't  do  you  shall  do  when  you  come  back, 
and  then  we'll  go  for  a  ride  till  eight,  and  then 
we'll  have  breakfast,  and  then  we'll  play  tennis, 
and  you  shall  sit  in  the  judgement-hall  from 
ten  till  one  with  the  Minister,  while  I  go  for 
a  walk  or  a  swim  or  take  a  little  exercise  some- 
how, and  then  we'll  have  lunch,  and  then  we 
shall  have  time  to  amuse  ourselves,  and  you 
shall  bowl  to  me  at  the  nets  and  the  Minister 
shall  field  (I  adore  cricket),  and  then  at  half- 
past  four  we'll  have  tea,  and  after  tea  we'll  go 
out  in  a  double  sculling-boat  on  the  river  and 
we'll  have  the  Minister  to  steer,  unless  you 
can  do  it  with  the  sculls,  because  I   never  can. 


220  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

and  after  that  we'll  come  back  and  have  dinner, 
and  then  we'll  hold  a  reception,  and  after  that 
a  dance,  and  .  .  .  well,  I  can't  think  of  any- 
thing more  at  this  moment,  but  those  are  some 
of  the  things  we'll  do,  and,  oh  yes,  you'll  have 
to  take  me  campaigning  every  year  and  we'll 
go  in  the  winter  when  it's  frozen  and  we  can't 
hunt.'  "  The  Exotic  paused  again  to  recover 
his  breath,  and  looked  ruefully  at  his  cigarette, 
which  had  gone  out. 

"  Good  sporting  girl,"  said  the  Major,  not 
without  approval. 

The  Exotic  threw  the  cigarette  into  the  fire, 
and  continued  his  story  in  a  more  leisurely  man- 
ner. "  The  Prince  shuddered  with  such  violence 
that  he  woke  himself:  his  gaze  fell  on  his  fair 
suitor,  and  behold  it  was  not  a  dream.  The 
time  for  speech  had  at  last  come,  for  she  was 
about  to  break  forth  again,  so  he  opened  his 
mouth  and  began  as  follows  :  '  Fair  Princess : 
the  red  sand  of  the  Syrian  desert  unrolls  itself 
before  my  inner  vision,  stretching  into  dim  .  .  ."* 

"  Not  both  of  you,"  implored  the  Scribe ; 
"  it  is  too  much."  The  Ambassador  conceded 
the  cigarette-box  a  second  time. 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  221 

"  In  fact,"  continued  the  Exotic,  as  he  helped 
himself, "  he  narrated  to  her  the  Tale  of  the  Con- 
siderate Kurd,  to  which  the  Princess  listened 
with  a  deference  becoming  in  one  who  was  so 
obviously  unused  to  it." 

"  Unused  to  what  ?  "  demanded  the  Man  of 
Truth,  "  the  Tale  of  the  Considerate  Kurd  ?  " 

"  No,  listening,"  said  the  Exotic.  "  And 
after  it  was  over,  she  began  again  with  a  vision 
of  the  future;  but  the  Prince,  who  perceived 
from  her  manner  that  she  had  not  grasped  the 
full  delicacy  of  the  narrative,  or  realised  the 
importance  of  the  lessons  it  teaches,  espe- 
cially concerning  the  vanity  of  prophecy  and 
the  evils  of  immoderate  speech,  interposed, 
and  for  the  sake  of  her  ultimate  enlightenment, 
related  it  afresh  from  the  beginning." 

"  And  then  ?  "  asked  the  Ambassador,  for 
the  Exotic  had  stopped. 

"  And  then  he  related  it  a  third  time,"  said 
the  Exotic,  "  and  twice  after  that,"  he  added  in 
sudden  defiance  of  the  Man  of  Truth,  who  was 
ready  with  objections,  "  and  at  last  the  miracle 
was  effected  —  it  was  the  First  Princess  who 
slept.     The  Prince  signalled  to  his  Nubians  to 


222  THE    COURT   OF   SACHARISSA 

approach  on  noiseless  feet,  stepped  into  his 
litter  and  was  borne  swiftly  away.  And  that 
is  the  end  of  the  Tale  of  the  First  Princess/' 
concluded  the  Exotic  hastily,  for  fear  anyone 
should  be  in  doubt. 

"  It  isn't  a  tale  at  all,"  said  the  Man  of  Truth. 

"  No,  it's  meant  for  a  parable,"  said  the  Scribe. 

"  Well,  I  don't  care  what  it's  meant  for," 
grumbled  the  Man  of  Truth,  "  it  isn't  a  tale." 

"  Perhaps  the  story  really  begins  with  the 
Second  Princess,"  suggested  Sacharissa,  looking 
to  the  Exotic. 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  the  other 
princesses,"  he  replied  firmly.  "You  wouldn't 
want  me  to  invent,  surely."  There  were  depths 
of  virtuous  reproach  in  his  tone. 

Sacharissa  laughed,  but  insisted.  "  You 
promised  to  tell  the  tale  of  the  six  princesses." 

The  Exotic  was  innocently  apologetic.  "  I 
forgot  I  only  knew  about  one,"  he  said.  The 
discussion  was  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of 
tea,  and  the  Exotic  was  allowed  to  carry  his 
point.  "  I  think  they  know  about  the  other 
princesses,"  he  said,  as  he  received  his  teacup, 
indicating  his  friends  generally. 


SCENE   V 
CHAPTER  X 

The  Major  rose  regretfully  and  put  down 
his  teacup.  "  I'm  afraid  I  must  go/'  he  said 
in  apology  to  Sacharissa.  "  I've  got  a  lot  of 
things  to  attend  to."  The  Ambassador  accom- 
panied him  to  the  door. 

"  It  is  still  raining  hard,"  he  reported  as  he 
came  back.  The  Exotic,  keeping  a  firm  gaze 
on  the  fire,  settled  himself  more  comfortably 
in  his  chair  with  the  luxurious  content  of  one 
who  knows  that  someone  else  is  going  out  into 
the  wet. 

The  Scribe,  noting  this,  reminded  him  of  his 
obligations  to  the  five  princesses.  "  I  said  I 
didn't  know  anything  about  them,"  the  Exotic 
complained. 

"  Not  even  after  tea  ?  "  hinted  his  persecutor. 
The  Exotic  shook  his  head  gently. 

"  Why,  anyone  could  make  up  five  more 
223 


224  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

stories  like  that/'  said  the  indignant  Man  of 
Truth. 

"  As  the  Placid  Pasha  said  to  the  Careful 
Camel,"  returned  the  Exotic,  not  without  dig- 
nity :  "  '  'The  Sausage-seller^  observed  the  Imam^ 
'  could  not  preach  till  they  -put  him  in  the  pulpit.'  " 

Sacharissa  turned  to  the  Ambassador.  "  I 
should  think  the  other  ^yq  princesses  must  be 
rather  tired  of  the  photographs  by  now ;  won't 
somebody  rescue  one  of  them  ?  " 

"  If  you  mean  that  I  can't  .  .  ."  began  the 
Man  of  Truth,  who  had  been  meditating  on 
the  saying  of  the  Placid  Pasha.  Sacharissa 
added  the  additional  stimulus  necessary. 

"  We  are  sure  you  can,"  she  said.  "  Please 
do." 

The  Man  of  Truth  looked  defiantly  at  the 
Exotic  and  began  the  story  without  further 
preamble. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  225 

"The  Tale  of  the  Second  Princess 

"  Well,  the  Prince  went  back  to  the  palace 
and  had  the  Nubians  executed  and  the  Minister 
degraded." 

Sacharissa,  not  understanding  that  the  Man 
of  Truth  was  trying  to  keep  up  the  Oriental 
atmosphere  created  by  the  Exotic,  asked  the 
reason  of  such  stern  measures. 

"Oh,  well,"  — the  Man  of  Truth  conceded 
the  point,  —  "he  didn't  have  them  executed, 
he  gave  them  to  the  First  Princess."  The 
possibilities  of  poetical  licence  were  breaking 
in  upon  him. 

"An  equivalent  of  punishment?"  suggested 
the  Scribe. 

"/'m  telling  this  story,"  said  the  Man  of 
Truth,  firmly.  "  So  the  Prince  went  off  to  see 
the  Second  Princess.  He  didn't  think  much 
of  her.  But  appearances  are  deceptive,"  he  con- 
ceded generously.  In  his  new  role  of  narrator 
the  value  of  an  occasional  philosophical  discursus 
was  beginning  to  make  itself  felt.  "  She  was 
small  and  had  a  lot  of  fluffy  hair,  and  she  wore 
a  sort  of  green  sack  tied  up  under  her  arms." 
Q 


226  THE    COURT   OF   SACHARISSA 

The  Ambassador  and  the  Scribe  looked 
helplessly  at  Sacharissa,  who  declined  to  give 
an  opinion  unless  she  had  more  details.  The 
Man  of  Truth  was  perplexed. 

"  It  was  a  sack,"  he  insisted,  "  a  green  sack, 
and  it  hung  straight  down  from  her  arms  to 
the  floor." 

"  I  wonder  if  he  means  an  Empire  dress," 
hazarded  Sacharissa,  but  no  one  could  give 
her  any  answer. 

The  Man  of  Truth  went  on  with  his  story. 
"  She  was  sitting  with  her  back  to  the  light 
reading  a  little  thin  book  with  a  large  vellum 
cover  and  green  strings.  '  You  want  to  marry 
me  ? '  he  said,  and  she  answered  something 
about  kindred  souls.  He  said  he  didn't  know 
anything  about  that,  but  he  had  come  to  look 
at  her  and  see  if  she  would  do."  The  Man 
of  Truth  paused;  story-telling  proved  more 
difficult  than  he  had  expected.  He  decided 
to  hasten  his  conclusion.  "She  didn't  do, 
and  he  told  her  so,  and  then  he  came  away. 
And  that  shows  that  all  is  not  gold  that  glit- 
ters," he  threw  in  with  a  praiseworthy  effort  to 
strengthen  the  human  interest  of  his  story. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL 


227 


"  Is  that  a  parable  too  ?  "  asked  the  Scribe. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  returned  the  Man 
of  Truth. 

"  I  was  meditating  on  the  moral/'  the  Scribe 
answered. 

"  Oh,  well,"  the  Man  of  Truth  admitted, 
"  one  can't  invent  a  thing  ofF-hand,  you  know. 
One  ought  to  have  pen  and  paper." 

The  Exotic  smiled  encouragingly  on  the 
Man  of  Truth  while  he  addressed  him.  "  To 
paraphrase  the  remark  of  the  Placid  Pasha : 
A  certain  Man-  wishing  to  build  a  house  stole 
one  brick'' 

"  I  don't  think  the  Princes  ...  I  mean 
the  Prince,  is  treating  his  suitors  at  all  nicely," 
said  Sacharissa. 

"  He  is  only  waiting  for  the  right  princess," 
suggested  the  Ambassador. 

"  Will  you  rescue  the  Third  Princess  ?  "  she 
asked  the  Poet,  who  had  lingered  in  spirit  be- 
side the  royal  fountain,  and  had  hardly  listened 
to  the  Man  of  Truth.  The  Poet  was,  as  ever, 
obedient,  and  he  began  dreamily. 


228  THE    COURT    OF    SACHARISSA 

"The  Tale  of  the  Third  Princess 

"  The  Prince  was  alone,  alone  by  the  marble 
basin  of  the  pool.  He  leaned  on  the  pohshed 
stone  and  gazed  into  the  limpid  waters,  as 
though  he  found  in  them  the  magic  mirror  of 
his  fate.  It  was  the  hour  of  noon,  and  time 
seemed  to  rest  with  the  shadows  for  a  little 
space.  Around  and  beyond  all  things  glowed 
in  the  sunlight,  but  over  him,  where  he  stood, 
a  great  elm  towered '  aloft,  and  beneath  its 
branches  lurked  mysterious  gloom,  for  no 
cunning  beam  could  pierce  its  leafage.  The 
calm  waters  in  the  mystery  of  the  shade  re- 
vealed nothing,  reflected  nothing,  save  only 
the  features  of  him  who  gazed  down  into 
them. 

"  Yet  for  the  Prince  there  was  magic  in  the 
mirror,  for  it  was  not  himself  that  he  beheld 
therein.  Another's  eyes  looked  up  into  his 
own,  trustfully,  another's  eyes,  another's  face, 
tender  and  loving,  framed  in  a  glory  of  gold- 
brown  hair.  He  bent  lower ;  it  seemed  that 
her  lips  were  waiting  for  his  kisses  ;  love  and 
gladness  lighted  her  smile.     Sorrow  had  surely 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  229 

never  touched  her,  and  from  her  the  know- 
ledge of  sin  and  suffering  was  hid. 

"  He  watched  long,  and  as  he  watched  the 
picture  changed.  He  saw  her  still,  enthroned 
and  royally  attired,  and  he  saw  himself  before 
her,  come  from  his  triumph  to  lay  the  trophies 
of  battle  at  her  feet.  He  knew  that  for  love 
of  her  he  had  dared  great  deeds,  and  he  saw 
the  joy  in  her  face  as  she  greeted  him,  but  he 
saw  there  sadness  too,  the  sadness  of  one  who 
has  watched  and  waited  for  long,  waited  and 
hoped,  and  in  the  end  seen  hope  fulfilled ;  but 
even  so  there  remains  the  shadow  of  past 
dread. 

"  His  eyes  grew  dim,  and  it  seemed  as 
though  a  mist  covered  the  water.  Then  he 
saw  clearly  again,  saw  a  meadow  within  a 
pleasant  vale  sheltered  from  all  the  winds. 
Two  children  played  there,  boy  and  girl. 
Hand  in  hand  they  ran  laughing,  and  then 
sat  together  weaving  a  chain  of  daisies  which 
the  boy  held  out,  putting  it  about  her  neck  and 
his,  a  bond  to  wed  them.  So  it  should  have 
been,  he  knew;  but  he  was  a  child  no  more. 

"  And   then  the    meadow  of  delight  faded. 


230  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

and  once  more  he  beheld  his  own  face,  not 
as  it  still  was,  but  as  it  would  be.  He  saw 
himself  old  and  grey,  marked  with  the  scars 
of  battle.  He  saw  his  brow  lined  with  the 
cares  of  his  estate ;  he  seemed  grim  and  stern, 
and  his  eyes  were  cold ;  they  had  forgotten 
mercy  in  the  long  strife  with  evil  that  a  king 
should  wage.  And  about  his  neck  was  an 
iron  chain,  his  duty  bound  him.  His  hands 
held  the  chain  too,  but  they  were  free  only  to 
bind  another  therewith.  And  thus  he  knew 
it  would  be. 

"  Then  for  one  moment  he  wavered.  A 
great  longing  for  her  shook  him,  but  his 
brain  was  busy  with  the  future,  and  he  under- 
stood the  choice.  He  could  take  her  if  he 
chose,  but  it  would  be  only  to  cage  her  who 
should  be  free.  No,  he  was  a  prince,  the 
slave  of  all  men,  and  he  would  not  fasten  the 
fetters  of  his  own  slavery  upon  the  woman 
whom  he  loved. 

"  He  looked  up  from  his  reverie ;  the 
shadows  were  creeping  across  the  garden,  and 
already  he  was  almost  too  late  for  his  duty. 
It  was  the  hour  when  he  sat  and  gave  audi- 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  231 

ence.  With  a  sigh  he  roused  himself  and  re- 
turned to  the  palace,  to  his  throne  in  the  hall 
of  judgement." 

The  Poet  had  ended.  His  hero's  renuncia- 
tion of  self  had  affected  him  with  melancholy, 
and  in  consequence  he  missed  the  Man  of 
Truth's  objection  that  what  they  wanted  to 
hear  about  was  the  Third  Princess. 

"  I  think  he  might  at  least  have  asked  her 
opinion,"  suggested  Sacharissa. 

"  Perhaps  he  knew  what  it  would  be,"  said 
the  Scribe. 

"  But  I  think  the  Prince's  character  is  im- 
proving," she  commented. 

The  Exotic  ignored  this  remark  and  inno- 
cently enquired  why  the  Man  of  Truth  was 
looking  at  him. 


232  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

The  Tale  of  the  Fourth   Princess 

"  'Twas  love  the  Prince  desired,"  exclaimed 
the  Mime,  cutting  short  the  consideration  of 
the  Poet's  story.  He  felt  that  so  far  he  had 
been  somewhat  inconspicuous,  and  he  plunged 
into  his  narrative  with  the  more  energy.  He 
was  suffered  to  proceed.  "  He  vowed  that  he 
would  be  loved  for  himself  and  not  for  his 
kingdom.  Not  in  his  royal  robes,  not  at  the 
head  of  his  veterans  would  he  woo  her,  but 
disguised  as  one  of  the  meanest  of  his  subjects. 
Often  had  he  watched  the  artless  courtship  of 
the  'prentices  and  the  buxom  maidens  at  his 
gates,  and  often  had  he  envied  their  freedom. 
For  him  there  was  no  stolen  kiss,  no  whisper- 
ing beneath  the  moon,  no  wandering  adown 
the  river  bank  arm  linked  in  arm  or  encircling 
shy  waist."  The  Exotic  yawned.  He  thought 
he  himself  had  made  quite  clear  the  sort 
of  thing  the  Prince  did  not  do  some  time 
ago. 

The  Mime,  checked  in  his  catalogue  of  royal 
disabilities,  returned  to  his  story.  "  So  on  a 
day  he  disguised  himself  in  russet  brown,  seized 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  233 

a  minstrel's  harp,  and  hied  him  to  her  lodging, 
where,  under  her  window,  he  poured  forth  his 
soul  in  song.  The  Princess  came  out  with  her 
tire-women  to  the  balcony.  His  heart  beat 
high,  and  he  redoubled  his  passionate  appeal.'* 
The  Mime's  hand  swept  imaginary  harp-strings, 
and  for  one  brief  moment  it  seemed  almost  as 
if  he  intended  to  s'lno-.  The  Ambassador  shook 
his  head. 

"  The  Princess  leaned  over  the  balcony.  In 
that  hour  he  loved  her  to  distraction.  Surely 
she  could  not  choose  but  return  his  devotion. 
Was  not  her  heart  beating  responsive  to  his 
own  ?  Ha,  ha  !  "  The  Mime  laughed  bitterly. 
Sacharissa  was  a  little  startled. 

"  He  saw  her  hand  outstretched ;  he  marked 
its  delicate  whiteness  against  the  green,  a  flower 
amid  the  leaves.  Would  she  throw  him  a  rose, 
or  mayhap  a  kerchief  of  finest  lace,  or,  choicest 
of  all,  a  kiss  ?  But,  no  ;  ha,  ha  I  "  The  Mime 
thoroughly  enjoyed  his  Mephistophelian  mirth. 
"  He  gave  her  love.  She  threw  him  money, 
a  coin  of  basest  bronzed  The  words  were 
heavy  with  tragic  scorn.  "He  wrapped  his 
cloak  about  him,  dashed  down  his  harp,  and 


234  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

turning  upon  his  indignant  heel  ground  the 
coin  into  the  mire.    Thus  he  parted  from  her." 

"  I  really  think  it  was  rather  absurd  of  him," 
said  Sacharissa.  "  Surely  he  could  not  have  ex- 
pected her  to  fall  in  love  with  him  just  from 
hearing  a  song?  " 

"  She  was  incapable  of  love,"  returned  the 
Mime  with  decision. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  asked  the  Man  of 
Truth. 

The  Mime  shook  his  head  in  bitter  reminis- 
cence. "  I  know,  because  I've  proved  it,"  he 
answered.     "  It's  just  what  she  did  to  me." 

"  Which  she  ?  "  enquired  the  Scribe.  The 
Mime  looked  at  him  without  intelligence. 
"  Perhaps  you  could  give  us  the  date  of  the 
incident?"  he  went  on.  "The  pronoun  j/^^," 
he  explained  in  apology  to  Sacharissa,  "  is  so 
indefinite.  We  can  never  be  sure  to  whom  he 
refers  unless  we  get  the  date  as  well." 

The  Mime,  however,  paid  no  further  atten- 
tion to  him,  and  looked  round  for  the  ciga- 
rettes. 

Sacharissa  reproved  the  Scribe.  "  I  am  afraid 
you  are  not  sympathetic,"  she  said.     He  pro- 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  235 

tested  against  the  accusation.  "  Then  to  prove 
it  you  must  rescue  the  Fifth  Princess,"  she 
decided,  "  and  I  hope  you  will  treat  her  better 
than  the  others  have  been  treated/* 

He  protested  against  this,  too.  "  And  be- 
sides, I  don't  think  she  needs  any  rescuing,'* 
he  added. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  Sacharissa  returned. 

"  She's  quite  happy  with  the  Emperor,"  he 
said. 

Sacharissa  was  mystified.  "  I  don't  quite 
understand,"  she  said.     "  What  emperor  .?  " 

"  Hasn't  anyone  mentioned  the  Emperor  ?  " 
said  the  Scribe,  affecting  to  search  his  memory. 
"  But  there  always  is  an  emperor." 

"  Do  you  mean,"  asked  the  Man  of  Truth, 
who  was  also  mystified,  "  that  the  Emperor 
cuts  him  out  ?  "  The  Scribe  admitted  that  he 
did  mean  something  of  the  sort,  but  he  firmly 
declined  to  embark  on  a  story. 

"  Then  why,"  demanded  the  Man  of  Truth, 
"  does  she  call  herself  a  suitor,  if  she's  going  to 
marry  another  man  all  the  time  ? " 

"  She  doesn't,"  said  the  Scribe.  "  It  was  the 
Exotic  who  put  her  in  a  false  position."     The 


236  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

Exotic  seemed  inclined  to  protest,  but  thought 
better  of  it. 

"  This  is  too  puzzling/'  said  Sacharissa,  shak- 
ing her  head.  "  We'll  hear  about  the  Sixth 
Princess,  please."  She  looked  toward  the 
Ambassador. 

But  the  Ambassador,  too,  would  not  be 
drawn  into  a  story.  "  I  think  he  left  the 
decision  with  her,"   he  suggested. 

"  And  how  did  she  decide  ?  "  persisted  Sacha- 
rissa ;  but  on  that  point  the  Ambassador  was 
not  informed.  "  Does  no  one  know  ?  "  She 
appealed  to  the  company  generally. 

"  No  one,"  answered  the  Scribe. 

Sacharissa  was  disappointed ;  this  indefinite 
condition  of  the  Prince's  affairs  vexed  her. 
"  He  will  remain  a  bachelor,"  she  prophesied. 

However,  the  Exotic  saw  an  opportunity  of 
restoring  his  hero  to  the  pedestal  from  which 
the  others  had  caused  him  to  step  down.  "  I 
know,"  he  announced  placidly. 

"You  said  you  didn't,"  objected  the  Man 
of  Truth. 

"  I  said  I  didn't  know  anything  about  the 
other  princesses,"  the   Exotic  admitted ;  "  but 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  237 

I  know  he  cannot  have  married  any  of 
them.'' 

"  Why  ?  "  Sacharissa  enquired. 

"  Because  he  married  someone  else/'  he  ex- 
plained with  satisfaction.  In  response  to  her 
question  he  continued,  "  The  fortunate  lady 
was  a  Princess  who  was  not  a  princess,  and  she 
came  from  a  Distance  which  was  not  a  distance." 


238  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

The  Tale  of  the   Prince's  Bride 

"  That  is  too  perplexing,"  said  Sacharissa. 

She  shook  her  head  over  the  problem,  and 
the  Exotic  with  great  readiness  hastened  to 
resolve  her  doubts.  "  The  Prince,"  he  began, 
"  woke  up  just  in  time  for  tea."  The  Man  of 
Truth  did  not  hesitate  to  point  out  that  he  had 
already  done  this  once.  "For  his  second  cup, 
of  course,"  the  Exotic  condescended.  "  While 
he  was  drinking  it,  he  gazed  into  the  crystal 
mirror  of  the  fountain,  at  the  picture  it  reflected, 
a  picture  to  which  even  the  Lord  High  Beau- 
tifier  had  never  been  able  to  do  full  justice." 
The  Exotic  lingered  a  little  over  the  picture, 
and  left  it  with  regret.  "  But  the  picture 
passed,  and  it  seemed  to  his  wondering  eye 
that  there  succeeded  to  it  the  features  of  the 
Six  Lovely  Princesses  who  came  from  a  Dis- 
tance, their  features,  and  yet  not  their  features, 
not  as  they  were,  but  as  they  would  be." 
The  narrator  looked  triumphantly  at  the 
Poet  and  paused,  that  the  idea  might  sink 
properly  into  the  minds  of  his  hearers.  "  And 
then,"    he   now  glanced  at  the  Scribe,  "there 


A   MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  239 

came  upon  him  the  thought  of  the  Six  Em- 
perors. .  .  ." 

^^ Six  Emperors?"  echoed  Sacharissa.  One 
emperor  had  been  puzzling  enough,  and  she 
rather  resented  six. 

"  There  are  always  six  emperors,"  he  re- 
turned with  another  glance  at  the  Scribe. 
"  Of  the  Six  Emperors,"  he  resumed  placidly, 
"  and  he  waged  a  silent  battle  within  himself 
against  his  natural  impulse."  The  Exotic 
selected  a  cigarette  with  care,  but  did  not  light 
it ;  he  was  oppressed  with  the  terrible  conflict 
of  emotions  that  was  going  on  within  his  hero. 
"  But  at  last  his  mind  was  made  up.  A  man 
and  a  philosopher  as  well  as  a  prince,  he  steeled 
his  heart  against  such  weakness.  Let  fate  do 
its  worst ;  he  would  not  warn  the  Six  Emperors 
of  what  he  had  seen."  The  Exotic  put  down 
his  cigarette  and  looked  round  with  pride :  his 
hero,  too,  was  chivalrous  ;  he,  too,  was  capable 
of  renunciation.  "  Then  he  signalled  to  his 
waiting  Nubians  .   .   ." 

"They  were  given  to  the  First  Princess," 
objected  the  Scribe,  who  was  much  amused  at 
the  Exotic's  efforts  to  rehabilitate  the  Prince. 


240  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

"  They  retired  from  her  service  with  all  con- 
venient speed,"  explained  the  historian,  hur- 
riedly, "  and  then  he  entered  his  litter  and  was 
borne  back  to  the  palace.  Here  he  bethought 
him  of  his  high  mission  ;  it  was  love  he  de- 
sired, not  princesses.  Therefore,  disguising 
himself  in  russet  green  as  a  hop-picker  he  set 
out  on  the  quest." 

"  On  foot  ^  "  asked  the  Scribe. 

The  Exotic  was  forced  to  consider.  His 
hero's  reputation  required  tender  treatment; 
an  expedient  occurred  to  him.  "  The  heated 
air  quivered  as  it  rose,  distorting  the  propor- 
tions of  a  distant  .  .   ." 

The  Ambassador  checked  the  period.  "  The 
Prince  is  disguised  as  a  hop-picker,"  he  re- 
minded him. 

The  Exotic  sighed  —  it  seemed  that  his 
Prince  must  walk  —  "of  a  distant  milkmaid," 
he  emended,  "  whom,  as  she  got  nearer,  he  dis- 
covered to  be  disguised  as  a  princess,  and  to 
have  come  from  a  Distance  that  was  plainly  no 
distance." 

"  What  was  it,  then  ?  "  the  Man  of  Truth 
demanded. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  241 

"A  dairy,"  said  the  Exotic,  continuing  with- 
out loss  of  time.  "  Their  eyes  met  and  they 
loved  to  distraction.  In  response  to  his  in- 
vitation she  took  off  her  crown  and  sat  down 
beside  him.  They  conversed  pleasantly,  and 
in  due  course  he  narrated  to  her  the  History 
of  the  Considerate  Kurd,  to  which  she  listened 
with  appreciative  attention.  When  it  was 
over  she  craved  one  boon."  The  Exotic 
paused.  "  It  was  that  she  might  hear  it 
again." 

Several  of  the  audience  had  shown  signs 
of  protest  before,  but  this  elicited  a  chorus 
of  incredulity. 

The  Exotic  continued  placidly :  "  And  so 
he  acceded  to  her  request,  and  the  more  she 
heard  it  the  more  pleasing  did  it  become, 
until  she  felt  that  she  would  gladly  listen  to  it 
for  ever.  But,  pondering  on  the  saying  of  the 
Placid  Pasha  when  he  beheld  the  trappings  of 
the  Careful  Camel,  —  The  Dove  hath  no  need  of 
the  Peacock's  tail,  —  she  reflected  on  the  dispar- 
ity of  their  costume,  and  bethought  her  of 
the  raiment  more  suitable  to  her  profession 
which  she  had  left  behind   in   the   dairy.     So 


242 


THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 


promising  -that  she  would  return  anon,  she 
hastened  off  to  effect  the  necessary  transfor- 
mation. The  Prince  beckoned  to  the  waiting 
Nubians.   .   .   ." 

"  He  is  still  a  hop-picker,"  remarked  the 
Ambassador. 

"  So  are  the  Nubians,"  stated  the  Exotic  in 
triumph ;  the  Prince  was  not  going  to  walk 
after  all.  "  He  returned  meditatively  to  the 
palace,  where  with  the  assistance  of  his  faithful 
slaves  he  resumed  his  habitual  attire. 

"  And  when  he  came  back  once  more  to  woo 
her  at  the  head  of  his  veterans,  he  found  that 
with  distressing  unanimity  of  purpose  she  too 
had  put  off  her  disguise.  Love^  as  the  Placid 
Pasha  observes,  is  an  exchange  in  which  both 
Parties  are  losers.  Yet,  as  it  is  possible  for  one 
party  to  lose  less  than  the  other,  the  Prince, 
spurred  by  the  emergency,  resolved  to  act. 
He  related  to  his  veterans  the  Tale  of  the  Con- 
siderate Kurd,  while  the  Nubians  conferred 
with  the  milkmaid,  leaving,  of  course,  the 
decision  entirely  with  her,  but  explaining  to 
her  that,  though  a  prince  could  not  for  ever 
become  a  hop-picker,  yet  a  milkmaid  might  for 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  243 

ever  become  a  princess,  a  point  which  she 
grasped  without  any  unreasonable  delay." 

"  She  would,"  observed  the  Scribe,  a  little 
to  Sacharissa's  annoyance. 

"They  were  married,"  concluded  the  Exotic, 
"  by  the  kind  assistance  of  the  Conscientious 
Curate,  who  happened  to  be  visiting  in  the 
district.  And  so  they  lived  happily  ever  after- 
ward. Yes,  please,  I  will  have  my  cigarette," 
he  ended  cheerfully. 

On  the  conclusion  of  the  Exotic's  tale  the 
Ambassador  rose  to  his  feet :  "  But  you  are 
not  going  yet  ?  "  objected  Sacharissa.  The 
Ambassador  feared  that  the  Prince's  matri- 
monial complications  had  already  prolonged 
their  visit  unduly. 

"  But  it  is  still  raining,"  she  persisted ;  "  and 
besides,  you've  missed  your  train."  As  by  her 
permission  the  Ambassador's  watch  left  his 
pocket  and  amply  corroborated  her  statement, 

"We  have  stolen  an  hour  from  fortune,"  he 
admitted. 

"  Then  you  must  pay  the  penalty  of  your 
crime,"  she  smiled,  "by  making  it  a  httle 
worse.     If  you    don't    mind    stealing    a    little 


244  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

more,  I  will  do  my  best  to  make  up  for  the 
loss  of  your  dinner,  and  we  will  picnic  out 
here.     Please  do." 

The  Ambassador's  scruples  melted  like 
snow  under  the  sun  of  Sacharissa's  behest,  and, 
indeed,  as  she  had  said,  the  rain  was  not  yet 
over. 


SCENE   V 

CHAPTER   XI 

"What  is  going  to  be  the  end  of  all  this  ?  " 
asked  the  Man  of  Truth,  as  they  reached  the 
bridge.  As  no  one  gave  him  an  immediate 
answer,  he  continued,  "It  can't  go  on  for 
ever,  you  know." 

Still  there  was  no  answer,  in  words  at  least, 
but  by  tacit  consent  the  party  came  to  a  halt. 
"  It's  a  nice  moon,"  said  the  Exotic,  looking 
amiably  up  at  the  object  of  his  praise. 

Both  the  thunder  and  the  after-rain  had 
passed,  leaving  behind  a  cool  wind  which 
chased  small  fleecy  fragments  of  cloud  head- 
long over  the  sky.  Now  and  then  one  of  them 
passed  before  the  moon,  seeming  to  pause 
an  instant  in  its  course  that  it  might  dim, 
though  it  could  not  quite  obscure,  her  silver 
lamp.     The  wind  that  chased  the  clouds  also 

245 


246  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

kept  the  leaves  awake,  and  they  rustled  un- 
easily, as  they  seldom  do  on  a  summer 
night. 

"  And  a  cold  air,"  continued  the  Exotic, 
with  a  shiver. 

The  Scribe  leaned  upon  the  rail  of  the 
bridge  and  gazed  at  the  stream,  which  was 
somewhat  swollen  and  garrulous  after  the  rain. 
He  watched  a  piece  of  straw  that  glistened 
silver  in  the  moonlight,  as  it  circled  round  and 
round  in  the  eddy  below  the  bridge.  "  As  he 
says,"  he  remarked,  "  it  cannot  go  on  for  ever, 
though  I  do  not  see  why  he  should  have  em- 
phasised the  fact.  Contemplating  the  future 
is  a  poor  business." 

"  Well,  what  is  to  be  the  end  of  it  ?  "  per- 
sisted the  Man  of  Truth.  The  Exotic  turned 
up  the  collar  of  his  coat  and  observed  that  it 
was  a  cold  night. 

The  Poet  was  looking  back  towards  the 
house.  Through  the  rustling  leaves  glim- 
mered a  light,  evidently  from  an  upper  window. 
In  the  daytime  nothing  of  the  house  was  visi- 
ble ;  but  through  the  darkness  the  golden 
gleam    found    its    way    in    spite    of  the   trees. 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL 


247 


"  Why  should  it  have  an  end  ?  "  he  asked 
dreamily,  wondering  whether  the  window  was 
the  true  one,  a  beacon  or  a  will-o'-the-wisp. 

"  It  must  have  a  good  climax,"  insisted  the 
Mime. 

The  Ambassador  had  not  yet  spoken  ;  he, 
too,  had  noticed  the  light.  "  Yes,  it  must 
have  an  end,"  he  said  quietly. 

The  Man  of  Truth  was  gratified.  "  Of 
course  it  must,"  he  said.  "Why,  she  will 
marry,  and  then  it  will  be  bound  to  stop." 

"  Why  should  she  marry  ? "  asked  the  Poet, 
deciding  in  his  own  mind  that  it  was  not  a 
will-o'-the-wisp. 

"They  always  do,"  said  the  Man  of  Truth, 
with  convincing  and  pitiless  logic.  "  Why, 
there's  the  Major  waiting  for  her  —  anyone 
could  see  that." 

The  Scribe  laughed  at  the  water.  "  Ah, 
you've  noticed  it  too  ?  "  he  said. 

"  It's  been  evident  to  me  for  some  time," 
said  the  Man  of  Truth,  not  without  pride. 

"  Well,"  observed  the  Scribe,  slowly,  "  grant- 
ing that  she  does  marry,  she  need  not  neces- 
sarily marry  the  Major." 


248  THE    COURT    OF    SACHARISSA 

"  Well,  he's  the  only  one  we  know  of,  any- 
how," returned  the  Man  of  Truth. 

The  Scribe  laughed  again,  but  said  nothing, 
and  for  a  while  the  silence  was  unbroken,  save 
by  the  murmur  of  the  stream  and  the  restless 
leaves. 

Then  the  Poet,  still  gazing  at  his  beacon, 
spoke  with  unusual  firmness.  "  If  she  marries 
at  all,  why  should  she  not  marry  one  of  us  ?  " 

The  Exotic  sat  down  on  the  bridge  with  a 
sigh  and  lighted  a  cigarette.  The  Man  of 
Truth  was  amused  at  the  Poet's  suggestion. 

"  It  would,  I  think,  be  the  best  plan,"  said 
the  Ambassador. 

The  Man  of  Truth  was  still  amused. 
"  How  should  we  decide  which  it  was  to  be  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  We  should  not  decide,"  observed  the 
Scribe. 

"  Who  would  then  ? "  asked  the  Man  of 
Truth. 

"  Such  a  matter  almost  invariably  depends 
on  the  lady,"  returned  the  Scribe  in  even 
tones. 

There  was  another  interval  of  silence  while 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL 


249 


the  Man  of  Truth  thought  this  out.  Then 
with  a  voice  that  expressed  a  tinge  of  anxiety, 
"  Do  you  think  she  will  ask  one  of  us  ?  "  he 
questioned.     The  Exotic  shivered  again. 

"I  don't  think  you  need  be  afraid  of  that," 
answered  the  Scribe,  with  the  very  shghtest 
emphasis  on  the  pronoun. 

"  Then  how  on  earth  should  we  find  out 
which  it  was  to  be  ?  "  asked  the  Man  of  Truth, 
mystified  and  aggrieved. 

"  We  must  ask  her,"  answered  the  Poet. 

The  Scribe  noticed  that  the  silver  straw 
after  many  vain  gyrations  in  the  eddy  was  at 
last  seized  by  the  main  current  and  borne 
swiftly  away  out  of  sight.  "  Yes,  I  suppose 
that  is  the  only  conclusion,"  he  said. 

"  We  will,"  put  in  the  Mime  with  enthusi- 
asm. Involuntarily  he  stretched  out  his  hands 
in  rehearsal,  "  all  together." 

"  No,"  said  the  Ambassador,  sternly,  "  this 
is  not  play-acting.  The  Poet  meant  what  he 
said,  and  he  said  well.  In  such  a  matter 
everyone  must  act  by  himself,  and  for  himself. 
If  one  of  us  should  be  fortunate  enough  .  .  ." 
he  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  and  his  voice 


2 so  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

trembled  slightly,  as  if  he  were  moved  by 
emotion. 

"  But  we  can't  all  .  .  ."  began  the  Man  of 
Truth. 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  Scribe,  who 
called  attention  to  the  lights  of  a  train  moving 
in  the  distance. 

"  There  goes  our  train,"  he  said  ;  *^  we  have 
another  hour  to  wait." 

"  We  have  another  week  to  wait,"  said  the 
Poet  with  a  sigh.  Even  as  the  Scribe  had 
spoken  the  gleam  that  found  its  way  through 
the  trees  had  vanished,  and  his  gaze  en- 
countered only  the  rustling'  moonlit  branches, 
and  the  dark  formless  shadows  below. 

The  Exotic  threw  his  cigarette  into  the 
stream  and  rose  to  his  feet.  "If  you  have  all 
quite  finished,"  he  said  with  perfect  politeness, 
"  I  think  we  might  move  on.  I  feel  as  if  1 
was  one  large  icicle,  and  I  must  go  somewhere 
and  thaw." 


SCENE    VI 


SCENE   VI 

CHAPTER   XII 

"  We  can  carry  these  little  ones  ourselves," 
said  Sacharissa,  who  had  a  small  basket  in 
her  hand. 

"  Most  certainly  we  can/'  replied  the  Am- 
bassador, taking  it  from  her  with  a  masterful 
air. 

The  Poet  in  corroboration  picked  up  the 
largest  of  the  three  baskets  on  the  grass,  and 
the  Mime  and  the  Man  of  Truth  picked  up 
the  others.     There  remained  a  large  bottle. 

Sacharissa  noticed  it.  "  Oh,  that  is  a  bottle 
of  lemonade  which  wouldn't  go  in,"  she  said. 

The  Exotic  had  seemed  lost  in  thought. 
The  Scribe  now  called  his  attention  to  the 
fact  of  the  bottle.  "  Yes,  will  you  carry  it, 
please  ? "    said   Sacharissa,  with  bright   eyes. 

The  Exotic  stifled  a  sigh  and  picked  up  the 
bottle  with    both  hands.     Then  he  tucked  it 

253 


254  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

under  his  arm  and  leaned  heavily  on  his  stick. 
"  It  makes  me  feel  like  the  Careful  Camel/' 
he  murmured. 

"  We  may  as  well  start,'*  Sacharissa  sug- 
gested. "  We  won't  walk  fast,  it  is  so  hot." 
She  opened  her  parasol. 

"  The  Superfluous  Umbrella  !  "  ejaculated 
the  Exotic  as  she  did  so,  letting  the  bottle  fall 
in  his  alarm.  The  parasol  really  did  bear 
some  resemblance  to  that  historic  article. 

"  You  need  not  be  alarmed,"  said  Sacharissa, 
laughing,  "  this  isn't  a  wraith.  It  is  quite  my 
own." 

The  Exotic  recovered  himself  and  started 
with  the  others,  forgetting,  however,  to  pick  up 
the  bottle.  The  Scribe  restored  it  to  him  with 
a  smile. 

"The  Major  could  not  manage  to  come  for 
the  picnic,"  said  Sacharissa  to  the  Ambassador, 
"  but  he  will  be  here,  I  expect,  when  we  get 
back  to  tea."  The  Ambassador  displayed  po- 
lite interest,  and  made  a  mental  note  of  the 
circumstance. 

They  passed  by  the  house  and  along  a  short, 
winding  drive  lined  with  chestnut  trees,  which 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  255 

brought  them  to  the  lodge  and  carriage-gates. 
Passing  through  them  they  came  upon  a 
pubHc  road,  out  of  which  a  grassy  bridle-path 
on  the  other  side  ran  away  from  the  house  and 
garden. 

"  This  is  our  nearest  way  to  the  castle,'* 
said  Sacharissa,  crossing  the  road,  "  and  it  will 
be  cool  and  shady  for  walking." 

"  Where  does  this  road  go  to  ? "  asked 
the  Exotic,  becoming  innocently  interested  in 
geography. 

"  It  would  take  you  to  the  castle,  too,  if  you 
followed  it  round,"  she  replied ;  "  but  it  is 
nearly  twice  as  far.  I  don't  suppose  you 
would  care  to  walk  all  that  distance,"  she 
added  slily. 

"  Allah  forbid,"  said  the  Exotic,  in  a  prayer- 
ful spirit,  as  he  gazed  at  a  vehicle  approaching 
from  the  opposite  direction. 

Sacharissa  led  the  way  with  the  Ambassador, 
and  the  party  turning  a  corner  of  the  lane  was 
almost  immediately  out  of  sight  of  the  high- 
road. 

As  she  had  prophesied,  the  path  was  well 
shaded.      It    ran    between    deep    banks    sur- 


256  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

mounted  with  high,  untrimmed  hedges  of 
hazel.  Here  and  there  a  great  oak  spread 
its  Hmbs  like  a  canopy  overhead.  The 
banks  were  luxuriant  with  ferns,  and  every 
now  and  then  a  bush  of  wild  roses  in  full 
bloom  made  a  bright  contrast  to  the  cool  deep 
green  of  the  whole. 

"  This  is  one  of  my  favourite  walks,"  said 
Sacharissa. 

"  It  almost  deserves  it,"  replied  the  Am- 
bassador, according  his  praise  with  discrimi- 
nation. 

For  some  distance  they  followed  the  path 
in  silence.  The  Scribe  made  idle  cuts  with 
his  stick  at  the  growth  on  the  banks  as  he 
passed.  Sacharissa  noticed,  but  did  not  under- 
stand the  constraint  that  seemed  to  possess 
her  cavaliers.  She  looked  round  by  chance. 
The  Exotic,  Vv^ho  had  last  given  signs  of  his 
presence  when  they  were  in  the  road,  was  not 
now  among  them,  and  she  called  the  Am- 
bassador's attention  to  the  fact.  He  looked 
round  too. 

"  I  expect  he  is  behind,  somewhere,"  he 
opined. 


J 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  257 

"  He  never  walks  more  than  a  mile  and  a 
half  an  hour,"  said  the  Scribe,  "  and  we  must 
be  going  nearly  two.  But  he  will  get  there 
all  right,  he  knows  that  his  lunch  depends  on 
it." 

Sacharissa  thought  that  this  sounded  proba- 
ble enough,  and  they  paid  no  further  attention 
to  the  Exotic's  absence. 

"  Now  you  can  see  the  ruins,"  she  said,  as 
they  reached  a  spot  where  the  lane  broadened 
out,  and  a  gate  opened  into  the  meadows  on 
either  side.  She  pointed  to  the  great  keep 
which  stood  up  square  and  solid  above  the 
trees,  its  grey  stones  seeming  almost  blue  in 
the  dazzling  sunlight,  and  explained  that  they 
must  now  take  to  the  field-path.  So  leaving 
the  shade  they  passed  through  a  gate  into  the 
sunny  meadow. 

In  a  few  minutes  they  found  themselves 
standing  within  the  roofless  walls  of  the  old 
banqueting  hall.  "  There  are  the  hampers," 
said  Sacharissa.  "  I  thought  they  would  get 
here  before  us.  We  will  have  our  lunch  in 
here  where  it  is  cool."  She  opened  one  of 
the  hampers  and  took  out  a  tablecloth  which 


258  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

she  spread  on  the  grass.  The  Poet  and  the 
Man  of  Truth  busied  themselves  with  un- 
packing the  baskets. 

"  Is  the  Exotic  in  sight  ?  "  asked  the  Scribe 
of  the  Ambassador,  who  was  looking  back 
across  the  meadows. 

The  Ambassador  could  not  see  him,  and 
Sacharissa  suggested  that  perhaps  someone 
ought  to  go  and  look  for  him.  The  Ambas- 
sador undertook  the  task  and  went  out,  accom- 
panied by  the  Scribe. 

"  Does  that  lead  up  to  the  keep  ? "  the 
Mime  asked  Sacharissa,  pointing  to  a  low  door- 
way at  the  other  end  of  the  banqueting  hall. 

Sacharissa  gave  the  tablecloth  a  final  pat 
and  looked  up.  "  Yes,"  she  said,  "  there's  a 
staircase,  and  it's  in  very  good  preservation. 
It  is  much  less  ruinous  than  the  rest ;  I  think 
it  is  of  a  later  period." 

"  Let  us  go  up  before  lunch,"  suggested 
the  Mime,  who  had  an  idea,  and  was  anxious 
to  carry  it  out. 

Sacharissa  looked  doubtfully  at  the  table- 
cloth, and  at  the  well-meant  efforts  of  the 
Man  of  Truth   to   dispose   knives   and   forks. 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  259 

"  They'll  do  it  all  right,"  urged  the  Mime, 
"  and  it's  rather  early  for  lunch,  too." 

She  yielded  to  his  importunity,  and  after 
some  parting  injunctions  to  the  others,  suf- 
fered him  to  lead  the  way. 

Meanwhile,  on  the  other  side  of  the  castle, 
under  the  shade  of  an  outlying  fragment  of 
wall  reclined  the  Exotic,  peacefully  smoking, 
and  all  unaware  that  a  search  party  had  gone 
out  after  him.  His  gaze  was  fixed  on  the 
summit  of  the  keep,  and  his  face  expressed 
amiable  astonishment ;  possibly  he  was  think- 
ing of  the  amount  of  energy  that  had  gone 
to  the  erection  of  the  great  block.  As  he 
looked,  the  sky-line  above  the  battlement  was 
broken  by  the  appearance  of  two  figures,  which 
after  a  little  consideration  he  put  down  as 
Sacharissa  and  the  Mime.  The  astonishment 
in  his  face  grew  a  shade  less  amiable,  it  was 
mingled  with  pain ;  that  people  should  build 
a  keep  was  wonderful  enough,  but  that  other 
people,  and  people  of  his  acquaintance,  too, 
should  actually  climb  up  to  the  top  of  it  after 
it  was  built  passed  his  understanding.  In  a 
spirit    of    protest    he    extended    himself  more 


26o  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

comfortably,  that  he  might  give  the  matter 
the  consideration  it  deserved. 

But  the  current  of  his  thoughts  was  diverted 
by  the  behaviour  of  one  of  the  figures  on  the 
top  of  the  keep.  It  was  evidently  addressing 
the  other  with  great  animation  ;  first  it  stretched 
out  its  right  hand  and  then  its  left,  and  finally 
both.  Then  it  raised  its  arms  to  the  sky, 
then  it  swept  them  round  its  head,  including 
all  the  points  of  the  compass  in  a  powerful 
gesture.  The  Exotic  watched  with  unwilling 
admiration.  Then  with  great  suddenness  the 
height  of  the  figure  seemed  to  decrease ;  it 
was  as  though  two  feet  of  it  had  been  cut  off 
unexpectedly.  Only  its  head  was  visible  above 
the  parapet,  and  the  sun  shone  in  its  upturned 
face.  The  Exotic  shook  his  head  slowly  and 
sadly. 

"  Oh,  here  you  are,"  said  the  voice  of  the 
Man  of  Truth  close  at  hand.  "  They've  been 
looking  for  you.  How  did  you  get  here  ? 
We've  spread  the  cloth  and  lunch  is  ready." 

The  Exotic  for  answer  pointed  to  the  top 
of  the  keep.     The  Man  of  Truth  looked  up. 

"  What's  he  doing  ?  "    he   asked,  taking  in 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  261 

the  picture  of  Sacharissa  standing  looking 
down  at  the  Mime's  head,  and  his  one  wav- 
ing hand  which  from  time  to  time  was  visible 
to  those  below. 

"  He  is  kneeling  down,"  said  the  Exotic, 
solemnly,  "  and  he  is  offering  her  his  heart 
and  hand.  I'm  afraid  we  shall  have  to  do  it, 
too,"  he  added.     They  looked  at  each  other. 

The  Man  of  Truth  was  hopeful.  "  Well, 
she  can't  accept  us  both,"  he  said.  The 
Exotic  shook  his  head. 

"  You  can  never  tell  what  a  woman  will 
do,"  he  returned  with  gloom.  "  But  it  Vv'on't 
be  so  bad  if  we  stand  by  each  other  and  help 
each  other  out.  We  shan't  get  any  help  from 
the  rest,  they're  quite  mad."  The  Exotic 
shook  his  head  again  over  the  weakness  of 
human  nature. 

"  They've  gone  now,"  said  the  Man  of 
Truth,  looking  up  at  the  keep  again.  The 
figures  had  disappeared. 

"  Perhaps  we  had  better  go  too,"  suggested 
the  Exotic.  "  Lunch  will  be  beginning  soon, 
and  we  ought  to  try  and  eat  a  little  to  keep 
up  our  strength." 


262  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

"  I  believe  you're  frightened,"  said  the  Man 
of  Truth,  as  they  walked  slowly  back  toward 
the  scene  of  the  picnic.  The  Exotic  returned 
no  answer. 

They  found  the  party  already  seated,  Sacha- 
rissa  on  a  block  of  stone  on  which  the  Ambas- 
sador had  spread  a  rug,  and  the  others  on  the 
grass.  Her  colour  was  a  little  heightened,  but 
otherwise  she  showed  no  trace  of  the  scene 
at  which  she  had  involuntarily  assisted.  The 
Mime  was  helping  the  salad  with  a  satisfied 
expression. 

"  Why,  there  you  are,"  she  said,  as  she  saw 
the  Exotic.     "  Where  have  you  been  ?  " 

"  I  found  him  under  a  wall,"  explained  the 
Man  of  Truth. 

"How  did  you  get  here  P "  asked  the 
Ambassador.  "  We  went  back  to  look  for 
you. 

"  I  drove,"  replied  the  Exotic,  airily.  There 
was  a  chorus  of  questions. 

"  In  a  baker's  cart,"  he  explained.  "  I'm 
very  sorry,"  he  addressed  himself  to  Sacharissa, 
"  but  I  had  an  accident  with  the  bottle  and  it 
broke." 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  263 

She  laughed,  "rm  afraid  we  shall  be  rather 
short  of  lemonade,  then." 

The  Exotic  showed  his  willingness  to  suffer 
for  his  fault.  "  I  shan*t  want  any  more/'  he 
said. 

"Any  more?"  repeated  the  Scribe. 

"  Fortunately/'  the  Exotic  explained,  "  I 
drank  some  out  of  the  bottle  before  it  broke." 

Sacharissa  laughed  merrily.  "  I  hope  you 
drank  it  all,"  she  said. 

"  I  drank  as  much  as  I  could,"  confessed 
the  Exotic.  "  You  see,  I  was  afraid  there  might 
be  an  accident." 

"  Have  you  ever  carried  anything  without 
an  accident?  "  asked  Sacharissa,  smiling. 

"As  the  Placid  Pasha  remarked  to  the 
Careful  Camel,"  returned  the  Exotic,  in  expla- 
nation, "  The  Sluggard  went  to  the  Ant^  and 
the  Ant  hit  him  I "  Sacharissa  shook  her 
head,  and  the  Ambassador  handed  him  a  plate. 
To  remove  any  misapprehension,  the  Exotic 
continued  in  a  conciliatory  tone,  "  Besides  it 
was  only  the  bottle  that  met  with  the  accident." 

It  was  some  time  before  he  spoke  again,  for 
the  process  of  fortification  claimed  his  whole 


264  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

attention.  At  last,  however,  he  sighed  with 
content  and  said,  "I  have  eaten  a  very  great 
deal,"  as  he  refused  another  bunch  of  grapes 
which  Sacharissa  pressed  upon  him.  "  No, 
not  any  claret  cup,  I  thank  you,"  he  added  in 
an  old  world  manner  which  threw  additional 
light  on  the  fate  of  the  lemonade. 

Sacharissa  looked  round  for  something.  "  I 
expect  the  cigarettes  are  in  that  hamper,"  she 
said,  indicating  the  support  which  the  Exotic 
had  chosen.  He  felt  feebly  about  Vv^th  one 
hand  behind  him.  The  Man  of  Truth  rose 
and  ruthlessly  removed  the  hamper,  that  he 
might  open  it. 

The  Ambassador  refused  a  cigarette,  remark- 
ing that  he  would  smoke  later. 

"  When  do  you  think  the  baker's  cart  is 
likely  to  come  back  again  ?  "  asked  the  Exotic, 
recapturing  the  hamper. 

Sacharissa  protested.  "  You  don't  mean  to 
say  you  are  too  lazy  to  walk  back  that  little 
way : 

"  Oh,  no,  it  isn't  that  at  all,"  he  answered. 
"  You  see,  I  only  had  time  to  tell  the  driver 
half  the  Tale  of  the  Considerate  Kurd,  and  the 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  265 

poor  man  may  never  get  another  chance  of 
hearing  it." 

"  Come  and  tell  it  to  me,"  suggested  the 
Scribe,  to  comfort  him.  The  magnitude  of 
this  concession  almost  moved  the  Exotic  to 
turn  and  look  at  him,  but  he  congratulated 
himself  on  having  refrained  from  hasty  action 
when  the  words  "  on  the  top  of  the  keep " 
were  added  as  a  condition. 

The  Exotic  looked  injured  as  he  called  the 
Scribe*s  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  luncheon 
things  had  to  be  packed  up. 

"  Yes,  you  ought  to  see  the  castle,"  said 
Sacharissa,  to  her  companions  generally.  The 
Ambassador  rose  and  asked  her  what  she 
would  show  them  first. 

The  Exotic  collected  a  spoon  and  a  fork  and 
arranged  them  neatly  on  a  piece  of  paper,  by 
this  action  showing  clearly  that  he  knew  where 
his  duty  lay. 

Sacharissa  and  the  Ambassador  moved  tow- 
ards the  keep.  The  Scribe  roused  the  Poet, 
who  was  regarding  a  ruined  window  and  led  him 
after  them,  instructing  the  Mime  and  the  Man 
of  Truth  to  help  the  Exotic  in  packing  up. 


266  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

"  This  is  the  staircase,"  said  Sacharissa,  as 
they  stood  within  the  lowest  chamber  of  the 
square  keep.  The  air  struck  chill  and  damp, 
and  the  gloom  was  barely  dispelled  by  the 
narrow  shafts  of  sunlight  streaming  in  through 
the  southern  loopholes.  One  ray,  however, 
fell  on  the  doorway  of  the  spiral  staircase  which 
wound  up  into  the  darkness,  and  pointed  the 
way  to  ascend.  On  hen  suggestion  that  they 
would  mount  the  worn  steps  faster,  the  Scribe 
and  the  Poet  went  on  in  front. 

The  Ambassador  lingered  and,  when  the 
others  had  vanished  round  the  corner,  suggested 
to  Sacharissa  that  the  grounds  also  merited  a 
visit,  and  that  it  would  be  unfair  to  make  her 
climb  all  the  steps  again.  He  then  led  the 
way  to  a  door  on  the  other  side  of  the  keep, 
and  they  went  out  into  the  open  air.  A  suc- 
cession of  grass-grown  terraces  lay  between 
them  and  the  ivy-clad  wall  which  had  once 
been  the  outer  defence  of  the  castle ;  beyond 
spread  the  rich  pasture-land  away  to  the  distant 
woods  which  slept  in  the  summer  haze. 

They  walked  slowly  along  a  winding  path 
which  led    from    terrace    to  terrace  until  they 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  267 

came  to  the  wall,  and  here  behind  a  ruined 
buttress  a  great  fallen  slab  offered  a  conven- 
ient seat,  from  which  it  was  possible  to  see  the 
view  comfortably. 

The  Ambassador's  long  silence  began  to 
weigh  on  Sacharissa.  "  You  haven't  even 
praised  the  view,"  she  said,  rallying  him.  She 
glanced  at  him  as  she  spoke,  and  found  to  her 
confusion  that  he  was  not  looking  at  the  view. 
Accordingly,  she  tried  to  do  duty  for  both. 

Habit  was  strong  with  the  Ambassador. 
"  I  have  eyes  only  for  its  fairest  point,"  he  said 
mechanically. 

Sacharissa  saw  that  something  was  coming, 
saw  too  that  she  could  not  avert  it.  Woman- 
like, however,  she  tried  to  postpone  the  event, 
whatever  it  might  be.  "Aren't  you  going  to 
smoke  ?  "  she  asked,  looking  at  him  again  with 
a  slight  hope  that  perhaps  he  might  act  on  her 
suggestion. 

For  once  the  Ambassador  disregarded  a 
lady's  question  altogether.  "  I  must  speak," 
he  said  suddenly.  "  I  can  hide  it  no  longer. 
Ever  since  I  first  saw  you  that  day  in  the  gar- 
den among  the  roses  I  knew  that  it  was  you  or 


268  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

no  one.  Since  then  I  have  been  simply  living 
that  I  might  see  you  and  dreading  the  day 
when  my  dream  must  end."  Sacharissa  bent 
to  the  storm  with  downcast  eyes  and  nervously 
traced  figures  in  the  gravel  with  the  tip  of  her 
parasol. 

He  went  on  eagerly.  "  I  know  it  has  been 
a  dream,  and  I  have  tried  to  put  off  the  thought 
of  waking  from  it,  but  now  I  know  that  it 
must  be  faced.  And  yet  there  are  some  true 
dreams.  Dare  I  hope  that  this  may  be  one  ? 
Will  you  be  my  wife  ? " 

Sacharissa's  parasol  ceased  its  movement,  but 
her  eyes  remained  fixed  on  the  ground.  For  a 
moment  she  could  not  speak,  then  she  mur- 
mured :  "  I  cannot  tell.  I  do  not  know  if  the 
dream  is  true." 

"  For  me  it  is  the  only  truth.  I  love  you," 
he  said. 

Sacharissa's  hand  trembled  on  her  parasol, 
and  when  she  raised  her  eyes  to  his  he  could 
see  the  gathering  tears.  "  I  must  think,"  she 
implored.     "  Please  do  not  press  me  now." 

"  I  will  not,"  he  answered  gently.  "  You 
can  give  me  an  answer  when  you  please." 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  269 

^'  I  will  answer  you  next  week,"  she  said  in 
a  low  tone. 

"  I  cannot  ask  or  expect  more,"  he  replied. 
He  took  her  unresisting  hand  and  bent  over  it 
for  an  instant ;  then  he  assisted  her  to  rise,  and 
they  walked  back  towards  the  castle.  On  the 
second  terrace  they  came  upon  the  Poet,  who 
was  seated  on  a  grassy  bank  reading  something 
written  on  a  piece  of  paper.  He  looked  up  as 
they  approached.  Sacharissa  stopped  in  front 
of  him ;  the  presence  of  a  third  person  was  a 
welcome  relief. 

The  Poet  explained  that  he  had  left  the 
Scribe  on  the  keep  and  had  come  down  again. 
Sacharissa  sat  down  on  the  bank,  and  the  Am- 
bassador, murmuring  something  about  wishing 
to  see  the  view  from  the  highest  point  possible, 
left  them. 

She  could  not  at  once  compel  her  attention ; 
but  presently,  with  an  effort,  she  turned  to  the 
Poet,  who  had  folded  up  his  paper  and  was 
now  holding  it  out  towards  her. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Something  I  want  you  to  read,"  he  replied. 
"  Not  now,"  he  added,  as  she  seemed   about 


270  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

to  open  it ;  "  but  this  evening,  after  we  are 
gone." 

"  Is  it  a  poem  ? "  she  questioned,  and  the 
Poet  nodded.  She  could  not  pretend  to  mis- 
understand ;  the  look  in  his  eyes  would  have 
been  enough  to  assure  her  of  the  contents  of 
the  paper,  but  she  was  grateful  to  him  for 
sparing  her  another  scene. 

"  I  will  read  it,"  she  said  simply. 

A  footstep  sounded  on  the  gravel  path,  and 
the  Scribe  reached  them.  Looking  up  at  him, 
Sacharissa  thought  he  looked  strong  and  calm, 
and  his  eyes  were  kind.  A  sudden  impulse 
came  over  her  to  confide  in  him  and  ask  his 
advice.  She  felt  that  she  badly  needed  a  friend 
that  afternoon. 

He  seemed  to  read  something  of  her  thoughts 
in  her  face.  "Is  any  of  the  moat  still  in  exist- 
ence ? "  he  asked. 

"Yes,  there  is  a  little  bit,"  she  answered. 
"  I  will  show  you."  She  rose  and  they  walked 
round  to  the  other  side  of  the  castle.  The 
Poet  showed  no  disposition  to  follow. 

A  deep  black  pool  some  forty  yards  in  length 
was  all  that  was  left  of  the  great  moat  that  had 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  271 

once  rendered  the  castle  unapproachable  save 
by  the  drawbridge,  and  towards  this  pool  Sacha- 
rissa  bent  her  steps.  Leaning  on  the  battered 
wall  they  could  look  down  into  the  clear  dark 
water ;  rushes  fringed  the  banks,  and  the  white 
cups  and  broad  green  leaves  of  water-lilies 
floated  on  its  calm  surface. 

Sacharissa  gazed  down  with  averted  head, 
and  for  a  long  time  said  nothing.  Then  there 
came  from  her  a  little  sound  that  was  sus- 
piciously like  a  sob. 

"  You  are  in  trouble  ?  "  he  said  gently. 

"You  know?"  she  asked,  looking  up  at 
him  with  glistening  eyes. 

He  nodded.  "  It  could  not  have  gone  on," 
he  reminded  her  softly.  "  We  have  been  like 
children  living  in  a  fairy  tale ;  but  there  is 
always  an  end." 

"  But  I  never  expected  an  end  like  this," 
she  murmured.  "It  is  not  my  fault?"  She 
looked  up  again,  appealingly. 

He  smiled  back  at  her.  "  No,  it  is  not  your 
fault;  you  cannot  help  being  yourself,  you 
know." 

"  Oh,  I  wish  .  .  ."    She  paused  ;  she  did  not 


272  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

know  how  to  frame  her  thought.  "  Three  of 
them,"  she  exclaimed  inconsequently,  "and  I 
would  not  cause  pain  to  a  living  creature." 

The  Scribe  restrained  an  impulse  as  he 
looked  down  into  her  sorrowful  face.  "  Make 
it  four/'  he  said,  lightly  enough ;  "  it  won't 
make  things  any  worse,  and  it  will  be  some 
comfort  to  the  fourth  to  know  that  you  know." 

"  I  am  so  sorry,"  she  cried  tearfully.  She 
read  in  his  eyes  what  he  had  not  uttered  with 
his  tongue. 

"  Never  mind  me,"  he  said  abruptly,  to  con- 
sole her;  "I  have  knovv^n  all  along  that  I  had 
not  a  ghost  of  a  chance.  I  only  spoke  that 
you  might  not  some  day  think  me  inhuman." 

"  I  wouldn't  .  .  .  ever  .  .  ."  she  faltered. 
Her  handkerchief  half  concealed  her  down- 
turned  face ;  she  was  weeping  silently. 

The  Scribe  laid  his  hand  on  hers  and  forced 
her  to  look  up  again.  "  You  really  mustn't  take 
it  like  this,"  he  said,  with  an  air  of  cheerful 
command.  "  You  have  absolutely  nothing  to  re- 
proach yourself  with,  and  besides,  I  never  allow 
people  to  cry  with  me.  Dry  your  eyes."  She 
obeyed  meekly  and  looked  for  further  orders. 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  273 

"That's  right,"  he  said,  smiling.  "Now  we 
can  discuss  the  matter  rationally.  Has  one  of 
the  others  a  chance  ?  "  She  drooped  her  head 
again  at  this  and  could  not  answer  him. 

"  I  take  it,"  he  went  on,  "  your  silence  means 
that  it  is  just  possible,  and  I  imagine  that,  if  so, 
it  is  the  Ambassador." 

"  I  don't  know  yet,"  she  whispered ;  "  my 
mind  is  not  my  own  to-day.  1  am  to  give 
him  an  answer  in  a  week." 

"  Ah  !  "  he  commented.  "  Well,  this  is  my 
prescription  :  If  you  feel  that  you  can  take  him, 
do  ;  he  is  a  man  of  whom  any  woman  might 
be  proud.  If  you  can't,  it  can't  be  helped, 
and  our  fairy  tale  ends,  a  httle  sadly,  perhaps ; 
but  it  is  infinitely  better  so  than  if  it  had  never 
been.  But  do  not  let  me  see  you  cry  again," 
he  added  with  playful  severity. 

"You  are  very  generous,"  she  murmured, 
"  and  very  kind."  The  frankness  of  her  eyes 
checked  an  incipient  hope  that  flashed  into 
his  mind.     He  went  on  with  equal  frankness. 

"  Then  we  will  be  friends."  He  held  out 
his  hand  into  which  she  put  her  own.  He 
retained  it  a  moment  and  then    bent  over    it 


274  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

as  the  Ambassador  had  done.  "That  to  seal 
the  compact,"  he  said  lightly.  "  And  now 
you  must  do  as  I  tell  you.  You  must  come 
back  and  be  cheerful  and  behave  as  if  nothing 
had  happened.  I  will  help  you  as  much  as 
I  can."  Sacharissa  gave  him  a  tiny  ghost  of 
a  smile,  to  show  how  cheerful  she  would  be. 

"  No,  no  one  would  know  you  had  been 
crying,"  he  said,  divining  her  thoughts  ;  "  at 
least,  no  man  would,"  he  added  with  a  laugh. 

They  walked  back  together.  "  By  the  way, 
would  you  be  very  frightened  if  the  other 
two  .  .  ."  he  did  not  finish  the  sentence. 

For  the  first  time  she  gave  a  little  laugh  and 
confessed  that  she  would  not  be  very  frightened. 

"  Because  I  expect  they  will,"  he  explained. 
"  If  it  will  help  you,  I  think  I  may  say  that 
they  have  screwed  up  their  courage.  It  needed 
a  lot  of  screwing  up,  too,"  he  said  slily. 

Sacharissa  was  fast  recovering  herself  "That 
is  not  complimentary,"  she  returned,  almxost 
with  her  old  merriment. 

The  Scribe  smiled  approval  at  her,  and 
turning  the  corner  they  found  themselves  on 
the  terrace  again. 


SCENE   VI 

CHAPTER   XIII 

"  Please  don't  disturb  yourselves,"  said 
Sacharissa. 

As  they  passed  along  under  the  castle  wall 
they  had  almost  stumbled  over  the  recumbent 
form  of  the  Exotic,  who  was  comfortably  ex- 
tended on  the  grass.  Beside  him  sat  the  Man 
of  Truth  with  his  back  against  a  buttress  and 
his  hands  clasped  round  his  knees.  At  sight 
of  Sacharissa  the  Exotic  had  shown  some  slight 
symptoms  of  a  willingness  to  rise  if  it  should 
be  necessary,  and  the  Man  of  Truth  had  laid 
his  hand  on  the  buttress  to  assist  himself  up. 
At  her  bidding,  however,  they  remained  as  they 
were.  After  a  moment  of  indecision  she  sat 
down  too  on  a  block  of  stone  near  them. 

She  looked  at  her  watch.  "  We  ought  to 
be  thinking  of  starting  back  soon,"  she  said 
to  the  Scribe,  who  had  remained  standing.     "  I 

275 


276  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

told    them    to    have    tea    ready    at    half-past 
four.'^ 

"  I  will  go  and  find  the  others,  then,  and  tell 
them,"  he  answered.  "  Have  you  any  idea 
where  they  are  ?  "  he  asked  the  Exotic. 

The  Exotic  had  no  idea,  but  the  Man  of 
Truth  had  seen  the  Ambassador  on  the  keep. 
The  Scribe  departed  on  his  errand. 

"It  is  a  fine  day,"  suggested  the  Exotic  to 
Sacharissa  when  he  had  gone.  Forewarned 
by  the  Scribe,  she  looked  at  him  with  amused 
eyes.  He  was  evidently  very  little  at  his  ease, 
and  his  face  was  unusually  solemn.  She  ad- 
mitted his  premiss,  wondering  a  httle  how  he 
would  get  round  to  his  ultimate  point. 

The  Exotic,  however,  was  not  eager  to  get 
round  to  it.  "  This  is  a  nice  old  ruin,"  he 
continued  in  a  conversational  tone.  Sacha- 
rissa admitted  this,  too,  but  did  not  enlarge 
upon  it.  She  was  in  a  mood  to  listen  rather 
than  talk. 

The  Man  of  Truth  began  to  get  restive. 
Diplomatic  delays  had  no  charms  for  him. 
"You  had  better  get  to  the  point,"  he  said. 
•■  He  has  something  particular  to  say  to  you," 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  277 

he     explained     to     Sacharissa,    beginning     to 
scramble  to  his  feet. 

The  Exotic  checked  him.  "  I  won't  say  it 
at  all  if  you  go,"  he  warned  him,  and  the 
Man  of  Truth  reluctantly  sat  down. 

"The  fact  is,"  began  the  Exotic,  uneasily, 
"  he  wants  me  to  tell  you  .   .  ." 

"  No,  I  don't,"  the  Man  of  Truth  broke 
in.  Sacharissa  looked  at  them  with  grave  and 
impartial  interest. 

"  Yes,  you  do,  you  said  so,"  retorted  the 
Exotic.  "  He  is  so  shy,"  he  said  apologeti- 
cally to  Sacharissa,  who  could  not  repress  a 
smile,  despite  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion. 
The  Man  of  Truth  \yas  about  to  resent  this 
imputation,  but  the  Exotic,  warming  to  his 
subject,  continued,  "  He  has  laboured  to  con- 
ceal it,  and  you  have  probably  never  guessed 
it  from  his  manner,  but  what  he  wants  me  to 
tell  you  is  that  you  are  the  only  woman  in  the 
world  for  him." 

"No,  she's  not,"  began  the  Man  of  Truth, 
hastily,  "that  is,  I  mean  she  is,  of  course,  but 
she's  the  only  woman  in  the  world  for  you 
too/'     He  did  not   approve  of  splendid  iso- 


278  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

lation,  and  he  looked  reproachfully  at  the 
Exotic  as  though  he  would  upbraid  him  for 
the  breach  of  compact. 

Sacharissa's  interest  did  not  diminish ;  the 
situation  had  its  charm.  She  inclined  her 
head  in  acknowledgement  of  their  approval. 

"  I  was  coming  to  that/'  continued  the 
Exotic,  perforce.  "  In  fact,  you  are  the  only 
woman  in  the  world  for  us  both.  Will  you 
marry  us  ?  "  Realising  perhaps  that  a  pro- 
posal offered  from  a  recumbent  position  is  a 
little  unusual,  he  stretched  forth  his  left  hand 
in  the  manner  of  the  Mime.  "  We  know  our 
unworthiness,"  he  added,  as  another  concession 
to  the  usual. 

Sacharissa  felt  that  the  day  was  rich  in  ex- 
periences. In  spite  of  the  gravity  induced  by 
previous  events,  she  appreciated  the  humour 
of  it,  and  enjoyed  the  anxiety  depicted  on  the 
two  faces  before  her,  so  different  from  that  on 
the  faces  of  most  lovers  at  the  critical  moment. 

Nor  was  she  disposed  to  let  them  off  easily. 
She  affected  hesitation.  "  This  is  a  great  com- 
pliment," she  said,  looking  down,  "  but  I  can't 
marry  you  both,  can  I  ?  " 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL 


279 


"  That's  what  I  said,"  declared  the  Man  of 
Truth,  with  satisfaction. 

"  I  didn't  mean  that,"  said  the  Exotic.  "  I 
meant,  would  you  take  your  choice  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,"  murmured  Sacharissa,  look- 
ing at  them  from  under  her  lashes.  "  Do  you 
want  me  to  choose  at  once  ?  " 

The  Exotic  paled  visibly  ;  he  felt  somehow 
that  a  sudden  choice  would  not  go  in  favour 
of  the  Man  of  Truth,  and  besides,  the  spokes- 
man is  always  more  immediately  imposing  than 
the  silent  delegate.  "  We  would  not  wish  to 
hurry  you,"  he  said  with  great  sincerity. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  again.  She  thought 
for  a  moment.  "  Well,  I  will  decide  by  next 
week,  and  give  you  an  answer  then." 

The  Exotic  summoned  up  a  sigh.  His 
artistic  perception  told  him  that  something 
more  was  needed  to  make  the  scene  life- 
like. "  May  we  hope  ?  "  he  asked  in  earnest 
tones. 

Sacharissa  looked  at  him,  and  hardened  her 
heart  at  sight  of  his  rueful  countenance.  Re- 
pressing a  desire  to  laugh,  she  answered  with 
soft  wickedness,  "Yes,  I  think  you  may  hope." 


28o  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

Afterwards,  in  meditation  by  himself,  the 
Exotic  pondered  long  on  the  question.  Had 
she  or  had  she  not  emphasised  in  the  minutest 
degree  the  pronoun  of  the  second  person  ?  As 
for  the  Man  of  Truth,  he  had  no  doubt  on 
the  matter,  and  hastened  to  say  so  at  the  earliest 
moment  possible.  And  in  the  night-watches 
the  Exotic*s  heart  failed  within  him. 

The  Scribe  re-appeared  with  the  Ambassador, 
even  as  Sacharissa  was  speaking.  The  Poet 
and  the   Mime  followed  them. 

"  We  have  the  baskets,"  he  said.  Sacha- 
rissa rose  and  made  ready  to  start. 

"  They  will  fetch  the  hampers,"  she  returned, 
"  so  there  is  nothing  to  keep  us." 

It  was  rather  a  silent  procession  that  set  out 
on  the  homeward  way.  The  Scribe,  in  obedi- 
ence to  Sacharissa's  glance,  had  taken  his  place 
at  her  side,  and  they  walked  in  front.  Behind 
them  at  a  few  yards'  distance  came  the  Exotic 
and  the  Man  of  Truth ;  they  were  engaged  in 
an  argument  of  which,  from  his  appearance,  the 
Exotic  seemed  not  to  have  the  best.  Then 
came  the  Mime,  striding  along  with  the  look 
of  a  Hamlet  confronting  two  alternatives,  and 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  281 

the  Ambassador  and  the  Poet  brought  up  the 
rear  in  silence. 

One  sentence  from  the  Man  of  Truth  reached 
the  couple  in  front.  "  She  said  you  and  she 
meant  you ;  I'm  positive  of  it.''  Probably 
the  Exotic  requested  him  to  lower  his  voice, 
for  they  heard  no  more. 

The  Scribe  stole  an  amused  glance  at  Sacha- 
rissa,  who  returned  it  a  httle  guiltily.  "  So 
they  did  ?  "   he  suggested. 

She  nodded  an  affirmative.  He  did  not  ask 
for  particulars,  but  she  felt  that  he  was  not  in- 
curious. "  I  said  he  might  hope,"  she  con- 
fessed, looking  at  him  under  her  lashes. 

"Which  ?  "  breathed  the  Scribe  in  delighted 
suspense. 

"  I  did  not  say,  but  I  meant  the  Exotic," 
she  whispered,  "  and  I   think  he  understood." 

The  Scribe  chuckled ;  he  thoroughly  appre- 
ciated the  panic  of  uncertainty  which  must 
possess  the  Exotic  at  this  moment.  "  I  ex- 
pect it's  being  thoroughly  explained,"  he  said. 

"  It  was  very  wrong  of  me,"  she  gave  a  Httle 
remorseful  sigh,  followed  by  a  laugh,  "  but 
I  could  not  help  it,  he  looked  so  frightened." 


282  THE    COURT    OF    SACHARISSA 

The  thought  of  the  Exotic's  discomfiture 
lightened  the  way  for  them,  and  by  the  time 
they  had  reached  the  house  Sacharissa  was 
prepared  to  face  everybody.  She  reheved  her 
cavahers  of  the  baskets,  which  she  carried 
indoors.  The  men  strolled  slowly  towards 
the  lawn,  where  they  found  the  Major  mount- 
ing guard  over  the  tea-table. 

"  We're  pretty  punctual,"  observed  the 
Scribe  as  they  shook  hands.  The  Major 
nodded  approval. 

"  Excellent  habit,"  he  said.  "  I  was  a  bit 
early  myself,  but  that's  better  than  being  too 
late."  The  Scribe  wondered  if  he  were  too 
late,  but  the  Major's  face  was  innocent  of  in- 
tention. 

Sacharissa  soon  re-appeared.  She  had  taken 
off  her  hat,  and  with  it  all  signs  of  travel  or 
emotion.  She  was  once  more  the  gracious 
hostess  welcoming  favoured  guests,  and  there 
was  nothing  in  her  manner  to  suggest  that 
the  day  had  been  for  her  more  than  commonly 
attended  by  incident.  As  she  sat  down  by 
the  tea-table  she  gave  the  Scribe  a  little  glance, 
it  may  have   been  expressive  of  gratitude,  or 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  283 

perhaps  seeking  his  approval  of  her  appearance 
and  behaviour. 

The  others,  too,  had  had  time  to  recover 
themselves,  and  they  did  their  best  to  follow 
her  good  example.  The  Ambassador  hastened 
to  hand  round  cups  and  plates,  and  his  remarks, 
though  few,  had  lost  nothing  of  their  courtly- 
appropriateness.  The  Mime  fell  naturally  into 
his  part  of  subdued  cheerfulness,  and  the  Man 
of  Truth  was  as  ever  free  from  care.  The 
abstraction  of  the  Poet  called  for  no  special 
remark,  and  the  Exotic,  under  the  genial  in- 
fluence of  tea,  permitted  himself  to  hope  for 
the  best,  thus  wisely  postponing  any  loss  of 
appetite. 

"  Did  you  see  a  mad  foreigner  with  a  club 
up  at  the  castle  ?  "  presently  asked  the  Major. 

"  A  mad  foreigner  with  a  club  ?  "  repeated 
Sacharissa   in  surprise.     "  No,  why  ?  " 

The  Major  explained.  "  Oh,  a  man  I  met 
told  me  he'd  driven  one  over  there ;  picked 
him  up  in  the  road  somewhere  and  gave  him 
a  lift.  He  was  very  much  impressed  by  his 
talk,  said  it  reminded  him  of  the  Bible,  full  of 
long  words ;  and  he  couldn't  understand  any- 


284  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

thing  except  that  the  stranger  seemed  interested 
in  camels,  and  that  made  him  think  it  was  a 
lunatic  escaped  from  somewhere.  He  stopped 
to  ask  me  about  it,  because  he  thought  he 
might  mean  mischief  with  a  great  club  he  had." 

"  Who  was  the  man  ?  "  asked  Sach'arissa. 

"  A  fellow  in  a  baker's  cart,"  answered  the 
Major.  "  Know  his  face  quite  well,  but  can't 
remember  his   name." 

"  Why,  you  drove  in  a  baker's  cart,"  said 
the  Man  of  Truth  to  the  Exotic,  whose  coun- 
tenance expressed  great  surprise  at  the  merri- 
ment that  surrounded  him. 

"  It  must  have  been  another  one,"  he  pro- 
tested. 

"  There  is  but  one  camel,"  murmured  the 
Scribe,  holding  the  Exotic's  walking-stick  out 
as  evidence  of  the  club. 

The  Exotic  felt  that  he  had  been  maligned. 
"  ril  tell  you  exactly  what  I  said  to  my  baker's 
man,"  he  announced.  "  The  red  sand  of  the 
Syrian  desert  ..."  the  Ambassador  held  out 
a  plate  of  sandwiches  to  him  in  a  manner  that 
permitted  of  no  refusal. 

"  I  never  thought  it  would  be  you,"  said  the 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  285 

Major,  apologetically,  to  the  Exotic,  "  but  you 
know  what  they  are  in  the  country;  whenever 
they  see  anyone  a  bit  strange  .  .  ."  the  Major 
paused  ;  he  was  on  the  verge  of  saying  what  he 
meant. 

The  Exotic,  however,  took  no  exception  to 
the  adjective.  "  The  profundity  of  the  baker's 
man's  intelligence,"  he  said  amiably,  "  was  not 
adequate  to  the  concealment  of  a  comprehen- 
sion of  high  matters." 

"  No,  of  course  not,"  agreed  the  Major, 
hurriedly.  "  Your  stick  is  a  bit  heavy,"  he 
continued,  "  but  I  don't  much  believe  in  sticks. 
There  was  a  friend  of  mine  who  carried  one 
just  like  that,  and  I  remember  how  it  failed 
him  just  when  he  wanted  it." 

"  How  was  that  ?  "  asked  the  Scribe. 


286  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

The  Major's  Tale 

"Well,  It  was  like  this,"  said  the  Major. 
"  We  had  been  dining  with  some  people  a  few 
miles  out  of  the  town  where  we  were  stationed, 
and  it  was  a  fine  night,  so  we  decided  to  walk 
back  to  barracks.  We'd  just  got  to  a  lonely 
bit  of  road,  when  we  heard  cries.  There  was 
only  one  house  anywhere  near,  an  old  woman's, 
and  she  lived  all  by  herself,  so  he  said  we'd 
better  go  and  see  what  it  was,  and  we  ran  up  to 
the  cottage.  We  found  the  door  open  and  he 
rushed  in.  There  were  three  roughs  there  and 
they  were  tying  up  the  old  woman.  We  could 
only  just  see  them  by  the  firelight  in  the 
kitchen,  and  when  they  saw  there  were  only 
two  of  us  they  showed  fight.  Well,  he  took  his 
stick  and  tried  to  hit  the  first  man,  but  he 
caught  it  against  the  rafter  in  the  roof  and  it 
smashed  at  once.  No,  it  may  be  all  right  in 
the  open,  but  a  stick's  no  use  in  a  small  space," 
concluded  the  Major. 

"  Oh,  but  you're  leaving  off  at  the  most 
interesting  part,"  said  Sacharissa,  as  the  Major 
showed  no  signs  of  continuing  his  story. 
"  What  happened  after  the  stick  broke  ?  " 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  287 

"  He  got  knocked  down  for  a  bit,"  answered 
the  Major,  "  and  I  had  to  come  and  help  him. 
But  there  wasn't  much  room  for  them  to  get 
at  me  too,  and  by  the  time  they  saw  he  was 
getting  up,  they  thought  they'd  had  enough 
of  it  and  the  other  two  jumped  out  of  the 
window  and  bolted  and  he  untied  the  old 
woman." 

"  What  happened  to  the  third  ? "  asked 
Sacharissa. 

"  He  went  to  gaol,"  the  Major  answered. 

"  No,  I  mean  while  your  friend  was  untying 
the  old  woman,"  she  objected. 

"  Oh,  I  was  sitting  on  his  head,  you  know. 
It  was  rather  a  nuisance,  though,  as  we  had  to 
go  and  give  evidence."  The  Major  passed  on 
rapidly  ;  he  seemed  determined  to  diminish  his 
own  share  in  the  glory.  "However, we  got  the 
old  woman  to  put  her  savings  in  the  bank,  and 
gave  her  a  big  dog  afterwards." 

"  Ah,  they  were  not  real  burglars,"  said  the 
Exotic,  in  apparent  apology  for  the  poor  dis- 
play given  by  the  three  ruffians. 

"  What  do  you  know  about  real  burglars  ?  " 
asked  the  Man  of  Truth. 


288  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

"  I  knew  a  burglar  once  intimately,"  he  re- 
plied. 

"  Knew  one  ?  "  the  Major  questioned  in  sur- 
prise. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Exotic,  "  he  was  the  Benign 
Burglar,  and  he  met  the  Belated  Bishop." 

"  Bishop  ?  "  murmured  Sacharissa,  who  im- 
agined that  she  had  not  heard  correctly. 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  289 

The  Tale  of  the  Benign   Burglar  and 
THE   Belated   Bishop 

"Yes,  bishop,"  he  repeated.  "The  Benign 
Burglar  and  the  Belated  Bishop.  I  was  the 
bishop,  of  course,"  he  added  to  avoid  any  pos- 
sible misapprehension.  "  That  was  the  Mime's 
fault.  He  accepted  an  invitation  for  a  fancy- 
dress  ball  and  accepted  for  me  as  well,  and  as 
none  of  them  would  say  I  was  ill  or  out  of 
town  unless  I  would  really  be  ill  or  out  of 
town,  it  was  less  trouble  to  let  them  take  me. 
So  we  went." 

"We  didn't,"  objected  the  Man  of  Truth. 

"  As  the  Placid  Pasha  observed  to  the  Care- 
ful Camel,"  rejoined  the  Exotic,  "  When  the  Son 
heard  his  Sons  Son  make  hm  answer,  he  repented 
for  doubting  his  own  Father.''  He  paused  to  give 
the  Man  of  Truth  time  to  entangle  himself  in 
the  problem,  and  then  proceeded  artlessly. 
"  They  wanted  me  to  dress  as  the  Considerate 
Kurd,  but  I  was  more  modest.  So  I  put  on 
some  gaiters  and  an  apron  and  some  lawn 
sleeves  and  went  as  a  bishop,  —  they  wouldn't 
let  me  go  as  a  chimney  unless  I  went  as  a 
u 


290  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

drawing-room  one  in  summer  — "  he  put  in 
in  plaintive  parenthesis,  "  because  I  knew  it 
wouldn't  be  proper  for  a  bishop  to  dance. 
But,"  he  sighed  piously,  "  this  is  the  age  of 
indifferentism,  and  our  hostess  insisted  that  if  I 
would  not  dance,  I  must  at  least  sit  out,  even 
though  I  was  a  bishop.  So  I  sat  out  in  a  nice 
cool  conservatory  and  told  her  quite  a  lot  of  the 
Tale  of  the  Con  .  .  ." 

"You  were  a  bishop,"  the  Scribe  interpo- 
lated. 

"  I  know,"  he  admitted,  "  and  therefore  I 
related  the  Tale  of  the  Consequential  Canon. 
But  she  was  a  flower  or  a  fairy  or  a  ...  or  a 
pillar-box  or  something,  and  she  seemed  rather 
uneasy  about  her  next  dance.  So  I  sent  the 
Conscientious  Curate  to  fetch  her  partner  and 
permitted  her  to  retire." 

"  The  Conscientious  Curate  ? "  repeated 
Sacharissa. 

"  There  never  was  a  Conscientious  Curate," 
the  Man  of  Truth  broke  out. 

"  Rather  a  sweeping  statement,"  said  the 
Scribe,  mildly. 

The  Exotic  condescended  to  explain.    "  That 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  291 

was  the  Ambassador,  of  course ;  he  had  come 
as  my  chaplain." 

"  Perhaps  you  can  remember  what  I  went 
as  ? ''  suggested  the  Man  of  Truth,  with 
sarcasm. 

"  Let  me  see."  The  Exotic  affected  to 
meditate.  Then  he  went  on  cheerfully : 
"  Why,  you  went  as  the  Superfluous  Um- 
brella. I  remember,  we  sent  you  to  be  re- 
covered." The  Man  of  Truth  interfered 
no  further,  and  the  Exotic  resumed  his 
story.  "  Subsequently  to  her  departure,  I 
was  seized  with  a  desire  for  some  calm  retreat 
wherein  my  meditations  would  not  be  dis- 
turbed by  duologues  of  monotonous  similarity, 
and  I  arose  to  explore  the  possibilities  of 
safe  retirement.  I  wanted  the  Mime  to  show 
me  a  nice  quiet  place,  but  he  was  dressed 
as  Hamlet,  and  was  sitting  among  the  plants 
with  the  maddest-looking  of  the  Ophelias, 
so  I  thought  it  wouldn't  be  wise  to  disturb 
him. 

"  I  discovered  that  the  supper-room  was,  as 
yet,  untenanted,  but  after  a  not  wholly  suffi- 
cient delay,  I  heard  voices  approaching.     Be- 


292  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

hind  a  curtain  I  found  a  green  baize  door 
through  which  I  passed.  A  further  door  con- 
fronted me,  and  the  key  was  in  the  lock.  I 
opened  it  and  perceived  that,  as  rarely  happens 
save  to  the  earnest  and  deserving  seeker,  I  had 
been  vouchsafed  a  small  but  entirely  adequate 
miracle.  It  led  to  freedom,"  the  Exotic  stated 
impressively. 

"  Freedom  ? "  asked  Sacharissa,  in  a  sur- 
prised tone. 

"  The  back-garden,  I  mean,"  said  the  his- 
torian, "  in  which  there  was  a  tradesman's  en- 
trance leading  into  a  side-street.  So  taking  the 
keys  I  let  myself  out  and  hastened  safely 
away."  The  Exotic  looked  round  for  effect, 
but  as  no  one  responded  he  went  on  with  in- 
creased piety :  "  Alas,  it  is  not  given  to  erring 
mortals  to  find  all  things  perfect  in  this  vale  of 
sorrow.  Freedom  indeed  I  had  attained,  but 
at  a  great  price,  for  it  was  foggy  and  very,  very 
cold ;  and  as  my  lawn  sleeves  and  apron  rustled 
in  the  biting  blast  I  was  reminded  that  it  was 
no  fit  hour  for  a  bishop  to  be  abroad.  So  I 
fetched  a  compass  and  got  into  the  main  road. 
I  could  not  see  a  hansom  anywhere,  and  I  only 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL 


593 


met  one  or  two  people  on  whom  I  could  be- 
stow my  benediction ;  but  they  couldn*t  have 
seen  my  gaiters,  for  they  hurried  by  me  as  if 
they  were  startled.  I  began  to  wonder  how  1 
should  ever  get  back  to  my  own  abode.  And 
so  I  fell  to  musing."  The  Exotic  hemmed  and 
continued  impressively :  "  And  as  I  mused, 
the  red  .  .  ."  he  looked  at  the  Ambassador. 
"  The  red  .  .  ."  he  repeated,  but  to  deaf  ears, 
"  the  red  light  of  a  comfortable  fire  roused 
hope  again  within  me.  It  shone  through  an 
open  window  in  the  side  wall  of  a  house  and 
seemed  to  extend  a  hospitable  invitation  to  the 
stranger. 

"  To  go  on  unheeding  would  have  exposed 
the  domicile  to  the  intrusion  of  the  casual  pil- 
lager, and  so  I  resolved  to  become  a  Samaritan. 
I  perceived  that  no  policeman  was  in  the  vicin- 
ity, and  feeling  that  the  spiritual  power  was 
in  duty  bound  to  supplement,  should  occasion 
arise,  the  deficiency  of  the  temporal,  I  entered 
in  an  unobtrusive  manner ;  I  did  not  wish  to 
disturb  unduly  the  slumbers  of  the  unsuspect- 
ing householder,  preferring  that  his  left  hand 
should  not  become  acquainted  with  the  occu- 


294  THE    COURT    OF    SACHARISSA 

pation  of  my  right.  I  was  just  going  to  see  if 
the  fire  was  a  possible  danger  when  a  figure 
started  up  before  me.  Then  I  perceived  my 
peril,  for  his  attire  left  little  doubt  of  his  pro- 
fession. Furthermore,  he  pointed  at  me  some 
sort  of  portable  firearm,  and  commanded  me 
to  stand  and  deliver." 

"  The  revolvers  they  carry  wouldn't  hit  a 
haystack,"  commented  the  Major.  "  Did  you 
rush  him  ?  " 

"  Rush  him  ?  "  repeated  the  uncomprehend- 
ing Exotic.  "  Rush  him  ?  Bishops  don't 
rush,"  he  reminded  the  Major,  reproachfully. 
"  Besides,  it  wasn't  a  revolver  at  all ;  I  think 
they  call  it  a  horse-pistol.  He  brought  his 
spurs  together  with  a  click.  As  I  said,  his 
attire  compelled  attention,"  he  added,  perceiv- 
ing that  the  spurs  had  come  as  a  surprise, 
"  and  I  was  pained,  for  I  could  not  but  ob- 
serve that  in  his  top-boots,  flowing  cloak,  mask, 
powdered  periwig,  and  three-cornered  hat,  his 
appearance  savoured  strongly  of  Dissent.  But 
I  reflected  that  Christian  charity  enjoined 
politeness  in  a  bishop,  so  I  said,  '  May  I  en- 
quire if   I   have   the  pleasure  of  meeting   the 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  295 

owner  of  this  house  ? '  '  The  occupant,'  he 
answered.  '  The  owner  is  fortunately  absent.' 
'  Then  in  that  case  I  may  permit  myself  a 
chair,  perhaps,'  I   returned. 

"With  a  wave  of  his  hand  he  indicated  a 
commodious  arm-chair  by  the  fire,  to  which  I 
proceeded.  '  He  tempereth  the  wind  to  the 
shorn  lamb,'  I  suggested,  when  I  had  taken 
my  seat.  For  a  layman  he  was  not  obtuse, 
and  he  shut  the  window  at  once,  drawing  the 
curtains  across  it,  and  afterwards  turned  on  the 
electric  light.  This  done,  his  eye  fell  on  my 
gaiters,  and  he  uttered  an  exclamation  of  sur- 
prise. 

" '  My  poor  efforts  are  indeed  honoured,'  he 
said.  '  Is  your  lordship,  perchance,  an  ama- 
teur ? '  Following  the  sweep  of  his  arm,  I 
perceived  a  safe  in  a  corner  of  the  room.  On 
it  was  a  large  saw  which  he  had  evidently  taken 
from  the  bag  of  carpenter's  tools  that  lay  at  his 
feet." 

"  Burglars  don't  use  saws,"  said  the  Man  of 
Truth.     The  Exotic  went  on  unheeding. 

" '  Young  man,'  I  said  to  him  sternly,  ^  I 
perceive  that  more  than  mere  accident  guided 


296  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

my  footsteps  hither.  Even  in  the  minutest 
matters  can  the  eye  of  right  understanding 
mark  the  workings  of  a  beneficent  Providence. 
I  entered  with  the  intention  of  saving  an  excel- 
lent householder  from  the  knowledge  that  his 
home  and  hearth  were  undefended,  and  I  be- 
come the  humble  means  of  preventing  a  fellow- 
creature  from  the  perpetration  of  a  heinous 
crime.  Ah,  my  young  friend,  repent,  repent 
ere  it  be  too  late.  Return  to  the  wife  of  your 
bosom  with  unsullied  hands ;  think  of  your 
innocent  children  whose  career  you  were  about 
to  blast  with  the  reproach  of  having  for  their 
father  a  despoiler  of  other  men's  goods,  a  man 
whose  integrity  is  not  wholly  above  suspi- 
cion. 

"  An  admirable  discourse  and  a  strong  con- 
clusion," commented  the  Scribe. 

"  That  is  what  the  Benign  Burglar  said,  or 
something  like  it,"  admitted  the  Exotic,  "  and 
he  enquired  at  that  point  if  I  had  supped.  '  I 
had  to  hasten  my  departure,'  I  told  him,  '  but 
I  managed  to  snatch  a  morsel.'  He  expressed 
sympathy  and  a  hope  that  the  interruption  had 
not  been  violent,  and  suggested  that  perhaps  a 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  297 

little  more  refreshment  would  not  be  amiss. 
He  complimented  me  upon  my  eloquence 
while  he  was  exploring  a  cupboard,  and  said 
that  I  almost  persuaded  him  to  become  a 
bishop.  Naturally  I  was  about  to  rebuke 
him  for  so  gross  a  perversion  of  Holy  Writ, 
when  he  produced  a  decanter  of  very  excellent 
port,  and  anticipated  my  rebuke  by  drinking 
a  glass  to  my  further  advancement.  I  could 
not  but  return  the  courtesy,  though  I  trust  I 
made  it  clear  to  him  that  I  was  unable  to  re- 
ciprocate the  exact  terms  of  his  toast,  in  respect 
of  the  profession  he  had  so  obviously  adopted." 
The  Exotic's  expression  had  become  intensely 
virtuous,  and  he  continued  in  a  truly  episcopal 
manner  :  — 

"  I  had  some  hopes  of  holding  him  in  con- 
versation until  dawn  should  frustrate  his  nefa- 
rious design ;  but  after  his  third  glass  of  port 
he  offered  me  a  cigarette  and  begged  me  to 
excuse  him  while  he  attended  to  his  immediate 
object.  Thereupon  I  resumed  my  admoni- 
tions, and  the  better  to  illustrate  my  discourse 
I  narrated  to  him  the  History  of  the  Conse- 
quential Canon.     But  I  fear  the  esoteric  mean- 


298  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

ing  of  the  narrative  must  have  escaped  him,  for 
he  continued  to  saw  vigorously  at  the  safe. 
After  a  while  the  saw  got  so  out  of  tune  that  I 
decided  on  more  strenuous  measures  ;  in  fact  I 
informed  him  that  if  he  did  not  stop  that  exe- 
crable noise  I  should  feel  it  my  painful  duty  to 
apprise  the  police. 

" '  I  am  sure  your  lordship  would  be  too 
courteous/  he  began.  '  The  manner  of  your 
own  entry  was,  if  I  might  venture  to  suggest 
it,  hardly  episcopal,  and  it  is  possible  that  the 
unintelligent  layman  might,  misconstrue  the 
charity  of  your  motives.'  He  went  on  to  in- 
form me  that  I  was  in  the  house  of  a  well- 
known  actress,  and,  indeed,  I  remembered  to 
have  seen  the  name  he  mentioned  on  an  adver- 
tisement about  soap." 

"  A  sure  sign  of  a  reputation,"  observed  the 
Scribe,  in  answer  to  Sacharissa's  movement  of 
protest. 

The  Exotic  went  on  with  the  story.  "  Con- 
sideration for  the  lady,  he  further  suggested, 
should  make  me  unwilling  to  invite  public 
attention,  which  would,  unhappily,  be  the  out- 
come  of  my  well-meant    interference.     These 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  299 

thoughts  made  me  congratulate  myself  that  I 
had  not  dressed  as  the  Considerate  Kurd. 
However,  as  in  deference  to  my  wishes  he  had 
abandoned  the  saw  in  favour  of  a  more  melo- 
dious gimlet,  I  accepted  another  cigarette  and 
did  not  leave  my  chair. 

"  Presently  an  exclamation  caused  me  to  un- 
close my  eyes,  and  I  found  him  regarding  the 
open  safe  with  every  sign  of  astonishment. 
'  It  was  not  locked  at  all,'  he  complained,  'and 
there  is  nothing  in  it.'  I  congratulated  him  on 
his  escape  from  temptation  and  again  adjured 
him  to  return  to  his  peaceful  home.  And 
before  I  got  to  '  seventhly,  and  lastly '  he 
seemed  moved  by  my  eloquence,  and  admitting 
that  no  more  could  be  done  there  he  offered  to 
escort  me  to  my  own  house.  So  we  threw 
out  the  bag  of  tools  and  got  out  of  the  window 
together. 

"  As  we  walked  along  the  street  I  observed 
that  the  policemen  looked  at  him  with  a  curi- 
osity doubtless  only  restrained  by  my  gaiters, 
and  I  felt  that  I  should  be  happier  with  him 
in  more  harmonious  surroundings.  Then  I 
thought  of  the  scene  I   had    left,  in  which   it 


300  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

occurred  to  me  he  might  well  pass  unnoticed. 
So  we  went  into  the  back-garden  again. 

"  When  he  saw  the  lights,  he  hesitated.  '  I 
am  not  really  a  burglar,  you  know,'  he  said,  in 
apology  for  his  reluctance.  'What  are  you, 
then  ? '  I  asked.  He  explained  that  he  was 
an  actor,  and  he  mentioned  his  name.  It 
sounded  so  pretty  that  I  was  quite  sorry  I  had 
not  heard  it  before.  He  seemed  sorry,  too," 
digressed  the  Exotic  in  tones  of  placid  surprise. 
"  '  Why  were  you  burghng  ? '  I  asked  him.  He 
said  he  wasn't  burgling,  but  was  only  trying  to 
do  the  lady  a  kindness." 

Sacharissa  looked  for  an  explanation.  "  He 
said  it  was  quite  usual.  You  took  away  an 
actress's  jewels  for  a  few  days,  and  it  all  got 
into  the  papers,  and  she  became  more  famous 
than  ever.  He  said  it  was  better  even  than 
being  engaged  to  a  duke,  and  besides  he  was 
engaged  to  the  lady  himself,  so  it  was  all  quite 
proper."  Sacharissa  looked  at  the  Scribe  to 
see  what  she  ought  to  think  of  this. 

"  I  feel  almost  able  to  believe  that  part 
of  the  story,"  he  said  in  answer  to  her 
glance. 


A    MIDSUMMER    IDYLL  301 

The  Exotic  took  no  notice  of  the  remark. 
"  So  I  let  him  into  the  supper-room  which  was 
empty  again  except  for  the  Mime  who  was 
there  with  the  same  very  mad  Ophelia.  The 
Mime  did  not  like  being  interrupted,  and  out 
of  revenge  told  him  that  I  wasn*t  a  bishop  at 
all,  and  the  Benign  Burglar  said  it  was  a  pity, 
because  I  was  quite  a  credit  to  the  bench.  So 
they  got  me  my  hat  and  overcoat  and  some 
more  supper,  and  the  Mime  took  the  Burglar 
ofFto  the  hostess,  saying  that  he  was  I,  and  ex- 
plaining that  I  had  changed  my  dress  so  that  I 
might  be  able  to  dance.  And  while  they  were 
gone  I  gave  the  bag  of  carpenter's  tools  to 
the  very  mad  Ophelia  and  then  1  went  away," 
he  concluded  cheerfully. 

For  once  the  Exotic  had  really  helped 
somebody  out  of  a  difficulty,  and  he  earned 
more  gratitude  than  he  deserved  from  his 
listeners,  with  the  exception  perhaps  of  the 
Major.  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  con- 
tentedly, for  in  the  joys  of  story-telling  his 
own  parlous  situation  had  been  forgotten. 

At  the  sound,  however,  of  Sacharissa's 
rather    hesitating,  "  Till    next    week,"    as    the 


302  THE    COURT    OF    SACHARISSA 

Ambassador  rose  and  collected  his  party,  the 
Exotic  was  recalled  to  realities.  Refusing 
the  Man  of  Truth's  company  with  a  shudder, 
he  tailed  dejectedly  after  the  others  across  the 
lawn. 


SCENE    VII 


SCENE   VII 

CHAPTER   XIV 

"  She  said  you,  and  she  meant  you,"  said 
the  Man  of  Truth,  perseveringly. 

The  Exotic  returned  no  answer.  He  had 
found  that  it  was  no  good  contesting  the  point. 
Throughout  the  whole  week  the  Man  of 
Truth  had  been  at  his  elbow  pressing  home 
the  idea  conveyed  by  these  ill-omened  words, 
and  had  gradually  reduced  him  to  a  silence 
closely  akin  to  belief.  His  dejected  face,  as 
he  followed  the  party  slowly  across  the 
meadow,  showed  that  this  continuance  of  zeal 
was  hardly  necessary.  The  victim  on  his  way 
to  the  scaffold  needs  no  telling  that  his  execu- 
tion is  at  hand. 

The  Ambassador  and  the  Scribe  paused  on 

the    bridge    for   the   others  to   come   up   with 

them.       The    Ambassador    was    a    trifle    paler 

than   usual,    but    he    had    himself  well    under 

X  305 


3o6  THE   COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

command.  He  was  prepared  to  make  his 
bow  to  either  fortune.  The  Mime  had  re- 
sumed the  manner  of  Hamlet  in  the  grip  of 
destiny,  and  the  Poet  was  wrapped  in  antici- 
patory sadness. 

"  The  stream  is  a  good  deal  lower,"  the 
Ambassador  remarked  to  the  Scribe,  who  re- 
minded him  that  there  had  been  no  rain  since 
the  thunderstorm.  They  looked  down  into 
it  for  a  little  time ;  it  seemed  almost  as  if 
the  clear,  shallow  water  were  laughing  at 
them. 

The  Exotic  and  the  Man  of  Truth  reached 
the  bridge,  and  they  all  crossed  it  and  took  the 
familiar  path  toward  the  fountain.  The  Am- 
bassador pointed  to  the  rose-beds  which  were 
strewn  with  fallen  petals.  "  Summer  is  pass- 
ing," he  said. 

"  Here  is  the  Major,"  observed  the  Scribe, 
looking  up.  That  gentleman  was  advancing 
to  meet  them.  "  *^This  is  the  happy  warrior,'  " 
murmured  the  Scribe  to  himself,  noting  the 
elasticity  of  the  Major's  step,  and,  as  he  came 
nearer,  the  gladness  in  his  eyes.  He  glanced 
at   the  Ambas.  fdor   to   see  if  he   too    noticed 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL 


1^1 


anything.  The  Ambassador  returned  the 
glance  with  level  brows. 

"  Thought  I'd  come  and  meet  you  on  the 
way,"  said  the  Major,  when  he  was  within 
speaking  distance.  They  were  all  looking  at 
him  now.  Even  the  Man  of  Truth,  who  was 
engaged  in  impressing  his  oft-repeated  con- 
viction on  the  Exotic,  paused  in  the  middle 
of  his  sentence. 

"  There*s  something  I  ought  to  tell  you,'* 
the  Major  began  ;  "  the  fact  is  .  .  ."  he  paused. 
It  was  a  delicate  matter ;  he  did  not  wish  to 
seem  to  triumph  over  fallen  adversaries.  How- 
ever the  Ambassador  came  to  his  assistance. 

"  You  want  to  ask  us  for  our  congratula- 
tions ?  '*  he  suggested  quietly.  The  Major 
nodded  with  relief. 

"  I  am  the  luckiest  man  alive,"  he  admitted 
simply. 

There  was  a  sudden  rush  from  the  rear  of 
the  party.  The  Exotic  pushed  his  way 
through  his  friends  and  seized  the  Major's 
hand.  "  Allow  me  to  felicitate  you  most 
heartily,"  he  said,  with  a  beaming  face.  The 
Major  returned  his  grip  cordirFiy. 


3o8  THE    COURT    OF    SACHARISSA 

The  Ambassador  offered  his  hand,  too.  "  I 
congratulate  you  in  all  sincerity,"  he  said. 
He  looked  his  rival  in  the  eyes  for  a  moment ; 
then,  "  She  has  chosen  well,"  he  added  calmly. 

The  Major  was  not  to  be  out-done  in  gener- 
osity. "  Had  it  not  been  as  it  is,  there  is  no 
other  man  I  would  sooner  have  been  beaten 
by  than  yourself.  I  hope  you  will  believe 
that,"  he  said.  The  Ambassador  bowed 
courteously. 

The  others  came  up  and  shook  the  Major's 
hand  in  turn.  He  thanked  them  all,  and  then 
hesitated.  "  She  is  on  the  lawn,  if  you  would 
like  .  .  ."  he  began. 

The  Ambassador  acknowledged  his  kindly 
tact.     "  We  should  wish  to  say  good-bye." 

The  Major  stood  aside  to  allow  them  to 
pass,  and  then  turned  away  down  the  path 
leading  to  the  croquet  lawns. 

Sacharissa  was  standing,  as  they  had  first 
seen  her,  at  the  door  of  the  arbour.  Her  face 
was  pale  and  her  eyes  downcast.  The  Ambas- 
sador bowed  before  her  as  of  old.  "  We  have 
come  to  offer  our  congratulations,"  he  said 
gently,  "  and  to  say  good-bye." 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  309 

She  trembled  and  placed  one  hand  on  the 
table  to  support  herself.  "  He  has  told  you  ?  " 
she  murmured. 

The  Ambassador  bowed  assent.  "  We  hope 
you  will  be  very  happy,"  he  said  in  a  low 
tone. 

"  You  understand  ?  "  she  faltered. 

"  Yes,  we  understand,"  he  answered.  "  We 
have  all  been  the  playmates  of  a  summer.  Now 
the  game  is  over  and  we  must  go  back  to 
work.  But  the  memory  of  it  will  remain  as 
the  brightest  spot  in  our  lives,  and  written  in 
letters  of  gold  on  the  pages  of  our  life-tradi- 
tions will  be  found  the  name  of  the  queen  of 
our  summer  idyll.     Good-bye,  Sacharissa.*' 

The  Ambassador  took  her  hand  and  kissed 
it.  She  looked  at  the  basket  of  roses  by  her 
side.  "  These  are  the  last  of  the  roses,"  she 
whispered,  as  she  offered  him  a  bud.  "  It  is 
all  I  can  give,  I  wish  it  had  been  more."  And 
the  rose  was  white  with  a  faint  blush  on  the 
tips  of  its  petals.  He  took  it,  bowed  again, 
and  drew  aside. 

The  Scribe  came  next.  "Have  I  done 
wrong?  "  she  asked,  so  low  that  he  only  could 


3IO  THE    COURT    OF   SACHARISSA 

hear,  as  she  offered  him  another  rose.  "  I 
have  had  a  hard  struggle.'* 

"Wrong?"  he  repeated.  "No,  you  have 
been  wise."      He  smiled  at  her. 

"  I  will  keep  your  poem,  if  I  may,"  she  said 
to  the  Poet,  who  looked  at  her  gratefully,  as 
he  took  her  hand.  Then  he  moved  away  to 
the  side  of  the  Ambassador,  where  he  carefully 
placed  his  rose  between  the  leaves  of  his 
notebook. 

The  Mime  bade  her  farewell  almost  soberly. 
Except  that  he  thrust  his  rose  into  the  bosom 
of  his  shirt,  his  manner  was  commendably  free 
from  theatrical  expression.  The  cheerfulness 
of  the  Man  of  Truth  was  a  little  marred  by 
uncertainty  as  to  what  to  do  with  his  rose. 
Finally  he  followed  the  Exotic's  example  and 
put  it  in  his  buttonhole. 

To  the  Exotic  was  left  the  valediction.  He 
sighed  with  a  sudden  regret.  "  I  have  never 
been  able  to  relate  to  you  .  .  ."  he  hesitated, 
and  finally  decided  that  it  must  be  left  untold. 
Sacharissa's  face  expressed  not  the  slightest 
wish  to  hear  it,  and  he  had  an  uneasy  feeling 
that  the  others  were  in  a  mood  to  wreak  sum- 


A    MIDSUMMER   IDYLL  311 

mary  vengeance  on  him,  if  he  took  advantage 
of  the  situation.  "As  the  Placid  Pasha  observes, 
Human  affairs  are  but  the  clambering  up  one  side 
of  a  mountain  and  down  the  other.  We  must 
now  clamber  down  —  but  we  have  seen  the 
view."-  So  saying,  he  bowed,  and  turning 
led  the  way  back  across  the  lawn. 

The  others  followed  more  slowly.  The 
Ambassador  looked  back  once  for  a  last  glimpse 
of  her.  She  was  standing  still  in  the  same 
place  with  her  head  bent  and  her  hand  on  the 
table.  Then  he  turned  his  eyes  resolutely 
away,  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  strode  on. 

It  was  the  Scribe  who  saw  the  final  picture. 
He  was  the  last,  and  he  faced  about  as  he 
reached  the  rosary.  She  had  dropped  into  a 
chair  and  was  leaning  on  the  table  with  her 
face  in  her  hands.  As  he  saw  this  he  heard 
the  Major's  voice  by  the  fountain.  He  turned 
and  followed  the  others  with  set  face. 

Meanwhile  the  Exotic  tarried  for  no  man, 
but  hastened  on  his  way.  Somewhere  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river,  beyond  many  fields^  it 
might  be  possible  to  obtain  tea. 


THE  HEART  OF  ROME 

A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Water 

By   F,    MARION    CRAWFORD 

Author  of  "  Saracinesca,"  "  In  the  Palace  of  the  King,"  etc. 

i2mo      Cloth      $1.50 

In  this  new  novel  the  story  is  the  thing.  The  legend  of 
a  buried  treasure  under  the  walls  of  the  palace  of  the  Conti 
is  known  to  but  few,  yet  arouses  a  series  of  conflicting  inter- 
ests which  provide  the  framework  for  many  exciting  inci- 
dents, through  which  runs  just  such  a  charming  love  story 
as  Mr.  Crawford,  better  than  any  other,  knows  how  to  tell. 


A  FOREST  HEARTH 

A   Romance   of  Indiana  in   the  Thirties 

By    CHARLES   MAJOR 

Author  of  "  Dorothy  Vernon  of  Haddon  Hall,"  "  When  Knight- 
hood was  in  Flower,"  etc. 

With  illustrations  by  Clyde  O.  DeLand 

i2mo      Cloth      $1.50 

A  sunny  human  love  story  faithfully  picturing  the  adven- 
turous, indomitable  pioneer  elements  which  came  from  all 
ranks  and  parts  to  unite  in  the  present  State  of  Indiana. 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

66  FIFTH  AVENUE,   NEW   YORK 


HETTY   WESLEY 

By   A,   T,   QUILLER-COUCH 

Author  of  "  Dead  Man's  Rock,"  "  The  Splendid  Spur,"  etc. 

i2mo      Cloth      $1.50 


as  brilliant  fiction,  almost  startling  in  its  realism,  or  as 
dramatic  biography  told  with  the  dash  and  swing  of  the 
author's  best  manner. 

"  As  the  actual  life  of  a  real  woman  .  .  .  this  story  of  a 
great  woman,  the  sister  and  equal  of  great  men,  cuts  deep 
into  life.  What  the  author  has  done  has  been  to  realize 
it,  absorb  it,  live  each  moment  of  it  in  his  inner  self,  and 
then  write  it  down,  with  the  intense  conviction  that  is 
another  name  for  inspiration,  and  leaving  something  of 
excitement  and  elevation  behind  it." — The  Lo7idoii  Times. 


MCTODD 

By   C»   J.   CUTCLIFFE    HYNE 

Author  of  "  Thompson's  Progress,"  etc.,  etc. 

i2mo      Cloth      $1.50 

It  is  even  better  than  the  author's  other  books,  since 
there  is  a  certain  mellowness  about  McTodd  which  makes 
the  reader  like  him  better  than  his  chief,  Captain  Kettle,  with 
whom  every  novel  reader  is  familiar. 


THE   MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

66  FIFTH  AVENUE,   NEW  YORK 


THE   BEST  NEW  NOVELS 

THE  METTLE  OF  THE  PASTURE.  By  James  Lane  Allen. 
121110,  cloth,  $1.50. 
"  In  theme,  in  style,  in  portrayal  of  character,  '  The  Mettle  of  the  Pasture' 
shows  the  qualities  which  make  for  present  delight  and  future  cherished  remem- 
brance; .  .  .  the  book  is  altogether  a  great  achievement,  worthy  its  creator's 
noble  gifts." —  The  Louisville  Evening  Post. 

ON  THE  WE-A  TRAIL.     By  Caroline  Brown.     i2mo,  cloth, 
$1.50. 

A  strong  story  drawn  from  the  intertwisted  threads  of  love  and  war  in  the 
time  when  control  of  "  the  great  wilderness  "  (now  Indiana)  was  hanging  on  the 
result  of  the  struggle  for  the  forts  on  the  Wabash —  in  which  the  famous  war  trail 
played  an  important  part. 

A  GENTLEMAN   OF   THE   SOUTH.      By  William  Garrott 
Brown.     i2mo,  cloth,  $1.50. 

"Mr.  Brown  knows  the  field  thoroughly;  his  knowledge  is  accurate  and 
sympathetic  ;  and  in  this  story  he  has  dramatized  the  spirit  of  the  Old  South." 
—  The  Outlook. 

THE  BLACK  CHANTER.     By  Nimmo  Christie.     i2mo,  cloth, 
$1.50. 

"The  Black  Chanter"  comprises  tales  of  the  Highland  Scotch,  of  which 
the  first  lends  its  name  to  the  book.  It  is  a  story  that  sends  a  thrill  through 
the  reader,  who  can  almost  hear  the  deadly  music  in  which  Lachlan  the  piper 
worked  his  revenge,  playing  as  the  clan's  last  charge,  not  the  arm-strengthen- 
ing notes  of  "  The  Blades  of  Glenkilvie."  but  the  wailing  "  Death  Tune." 

JAMES  BLOUNT  OF  BRECKENHOW.      By  Beulah  Marie 
Dix.     i2mo,  cloth,  $1.50. 
"  A  novel  that  in  truth  to  history,  in  virile  simplicity  of  style,  and  in  abiding 
human  interest  may  fairly  challenge  comparison  with  the  very  best  in  its  chosen 
field."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

JOHN    MAXWELL'S    MARRIAGE.      By    Stephen    Gwynn. 
i2mo,  cloth,  $1.50. 
A  strong,  original  story  of  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century  in  Ireland,  when 
it  was  still  possible  to  take  a  wife  by  force,  or  to  be  hunted  for  one's  life  because 
of  being  an  American  "  rebel." 

THE  CALL  OF  THE  WILD.    By  Jack  London.     i2mo,  cloth, 
$1.50. 

"  A  wonderfully  perfect  bit  of  work." —  The  Szcn. 

THE  BEATEN  PATH.     By  Richard  L.  Makin.     i2mo,  cloth, 
$1.50. 

"The  Beaten  Path"  expresses  the  burning  industrial  problem,  as  it  touches 
the  lives  of  such  men  and  women  as  we  all  know.  Yet  it  is  far  from  being  a 
commonplace  story  ;  it  is  full  of  human,  everyday  types,  vivified  and  shown  to 
be  full  of  meaning. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

66  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK 


THE    BEST   NEW  NOVELS 


HOLT  OF  HEATHFIELD.      By  Caroline  A.  Mason.      i2mo, 
cloth,  $1.50. 

The  book  contains  some  delightfully  pungent  illustrations  of  the  range  of 
claims  made  upon  a  young  and  popular  minister  by  the  widely  varying  elements 
in  the  average  congregation. 

THE  LITERARY  SENSE.     By  E.  Nesbit.     i2mo,  cloth,  $1.50. 

"Clever,  witty,  and  wise,  full  of  subtle  humor,  and  graceful  in  stj'le."  — 
Pittsburgh  Gazette. 

ANNE   CARMEL.      By   G^VENDOLEN   Overton.       i2mo,   cloth, 

$1.50. 

"A  novel  of  uncommon  beauty  and  depth;  ...  in  every  way  an  unusual 
book."  —  Louisville  Times. 

THE  KEY  OF  PARADISE.      By  Sidney  Pickering.      i2mo, 
cloth,  $1.50. 

A  story  of  a  little  Italian  princess  who  has  been  told  that  to  find  the  key  of 
Paradise  "  one  has  only  to  love  with  the  great  love  and  be  loved  in  return." 

CHILDREN    OF    THE    TENEMENTS.       By   Jacob  A.   Riis. 
i2mo,  cloth,  $1.50. 

They  are  true  stories,  and  go  straight  to  the  heart,  some  funny,  some  pathetic. 
All  of  them  have  come  directly  under  the  author's  eyes  and  are  direct,  telhng 
pictures  which  make  clear  as  no  other  medium  could  the  conditions  confronted 
in  "  The  Battle  with  the  Slum." 

THE  MAGIC  FOREST.     By  Stewart  Edward  White.     i2mo, 
cloth,  $1.50. 

'.*  It  is  marvellous  how  IMr.  White  has  caught  the  outdoor  atmosphere,  .  .  . 
the  result  is  a  real  triumph  of  art.  No  better  book  could  be  put  in  a  young  boy's 
hands,  and  his  elders  can  read  it  with  equal  pleasure."  —  The  New  York  Sun. 

THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  SERVICE.     By  Edith  Elmer  Wood. 
i2ino,  cloth,  $1.50. 
An  uncommonly  bright  and  breezy  story  of  "  the  New  Navy." 

AUNT  JIMMY'S  WILL.     By  Mabel  Osgood  Wright.     i2mo, 
cloth,  $1.50. 

A  story  which  will  delight  all  the  young  people  who  know  how  a  thirteen-year- 
old  girl  feels,  and  that  will  interest  helpfully  very  many  older  ones  who  may  have 
forgotten.     Best  of  all,  it  is  a  book  to  spread  a  gospel  of  sunshine. 

PEOPLE  OF  THE  WHIRLPOOL.  By  the  author  of  "The 
Garden  of  a  Commuter's  Wife."  i2mo,  cloth,  $1.50. 
"  The  whole  book  is  delicious,  with  its  wise  and  kindly  humor,  its  just  per- 
spective of  the  true  values  of  things,  its  clever  pen  pictures  of  people  and 
customs,  and  its  healthy  optimism  for  the  great  world  in  general."  —  Phila- 
delphia Telegraph. 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

66   FIFTH  AVENUE,   NEW  YORK 


M12U21 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


